Separate Ways
by cindy123
Summary: What's wrong with Dean and why does he suddenly hate Sam? Dean tells Sam to leave and it starts the boys on a long, hard journey. Hurt,sick/Sam; freaked, angsty/Dean; helpful/Bobby. Rating for language and bloody scenes.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so this is my new story. I really hope you like and hope that you will let me know what you think.**

**Disclaimer to cover entire story: I do not own any of the familiar characters from the tv show Supernatural. No money has exchanged hands.**

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**SEPARATE WAYS**

"Eight ball, corner pocket," Sam announced, indicating the intended pocket with his cue stick.

The tip of the cue struck the cue ball, a cloud of blue chalk dust wafting into the air. The cue ball rolled silently over the felt covered table and struck the eight ball with amazing accuracy, and the eight ball started it's course to the pocket, bouncing in front of it before finally falling in with a soft clink.

"Nice shot Sam!" Dean shouted exuberantly, clapping Sam on the back. Sam smiled brightly at his brother, then laughed at Dean's excitement.

"Son of a bitch!" their latest victim spat as he slammed a pile of bills down on the tabletop. "Double or nothing? Come on, one more game boy!" the man cried.

"Sorry, but we need to be calling it a night" Sam said, reaching down to grab the money.

The man grabbed Sam's wrist, squeezing it painfully. Sam met the man's gaze and tried to pull his arm away. "I said one more game!" the man spat angrily, before feeling a strong grip on his shoulder.

"If you know what's good for you, you will let him go," Dean hissed into the man's ear, pulling him around and glaring into his eyes.

The man must have seen something in Dean's eyes because he let go of Sam's wrist, but not before giving it a final, harder squeeze. He stomped off, muttering under his breath.

Sam pulled the money up from the table, nursing his wrist absently. He walked to the table they were sitting at and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, putting it on while Dean did the same. Dean glanced at Sam's wrist, noticing the ugly red marks that had formed there. Dean started toward the bar where the man sat, fury in his eyes. Sam grabbed him by the arm, stopping him from moving any further.

"No Dean. Let's just go. Please?" Sam begged, pulling on Dean's arm.

Dean pulled his arm from Sam's grasp, looking at Sam's face. "Yeah, okay let's go," Dean said, storming out of the bar, Sam on his heels.

They reached the impala and both climbed inside, Dean still fuming, his face red with anger.

"Come on Dean, its no big deal. It doesn't even hurt," Sam reasoned.

"Did you even look at your wrist Sam? How can you say it's no big deal?" Dean asked incredulously.

Sam glanced at his wrist, seeing the red was already turning a deep purple. "It looks worse than it feels. You know I bruise easily," Sam answered, shrugging his shoulders. "The guy was understandably pissed Dean. I mean, I took him for a couple hundred bucks!"

"Yeah, well that's no excuse! He lost fair and square!" Dean shot back, starting the car and peeling out of the parking lot.

"Hey, you hungry? There's that all night diner by the motel. I don't feel like going to bed just yet," Sam asked in an attempt to change the subject.

"Yeah, I guess I could eat. Why? Are you hungry?" Dean answered.

"A little. Maybe a piece of pie and some coffee?"

"Okay, sounds good. I can always eat pie!"

They headed down the main street, reaching the diner five minutes later. They entered the diner and took a seat at a booth by the window, both turning their coffee cups up as they sat down. The waitress brought their menus and filled their cups with coffee.

"Uh, I'll just have apple pie please," Sam said, flashing a quick smile at the woman.

"Sure thing sweetie" she said, winking at Sam. "How about you hon? Do you know what you want?"

"Same as my brother, but I'd also like a double cheeseburger and fries. Oh, and make my pie ala mode," Dean replied, the sparkle back in his eyes.

"I gotcha hon. I'll have that right out to you," the waitress said before heading back to the kitchen.

Sam looked at Dean, shaking his head and smiling ear to ear, his dimples doing overtime. God Dean loved to see that smile. He hadn't seen it much lately and it warmed his heart, making him forget what he wanted to do to the man at the bar.

They sat there waiting for their food, laughing at halfway forgotten memories, Sam usually being the object of the joke. Their food arrived and Dean continued talking and laughing, even with his mouth full. Sam just shook his head and kept his eyes on his plate, preferring not to see Dean's chewed up food sputtering all over the place. They finished, Dean before Sam, paid their bill and left the diner.

They reached the motel and both got out of the impala, still laughing, and headed for their room. Dean unlocked the door and stepped inside first, automatically scanning the room before letting Sam enter. They both plopped down on their respective beds, Sam grabbing the remote and turning on the television. Dean stood up, patting down his pockets, a frown on his face.

"I must have left my phone in the car. I'll be right back," Dean said, heading for the door.

"Yeah, okay," Sam replied, digging in his duffel for his sleep pants and a tee shirt.

Dean stepped out of the room and walked up to the impala, unlocking the door and opening it. His phone rested on the seat and he reached in and grabbed it. He pushed down the lock and closed the door as quietly as he could, then started back to the room. A cold breeze suddenly blew down his neck, sending shivers through his body. He stopped, looking around the parking lot, and seeing nothing out of the ordinary he made to turn back toward the room. A sudden jolt of pain pierced his forehead and a wave of dizziness washed over him. He fell back against the impala and slid down the side, holding his head, his eyes scrunched shut tightly.

As suddenly as the pain and dizziness hit, it left and Dean pulled himself up. He looked around again, confusion in his eyes. 'What the hell' he thought then headed back to the room. He walked into the room and Sam, who was already dressed for bed, looked up from where he was propped against his headboard and smiled. The smile left his face however, when he saw how pale Dean was.

"Hey, are you okay?" Sam asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just got tired all of the sudden," Dean replied, a trace of coldness in his tone. "Turn the TV off will you? I want to go to bed."

"Yeah, sure," Sam said with an air of confusion. He turned the TV off and looked back at Dean. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I said I'm fine Sam! Back off!" Dean spat.

"Okay. I'm sorry," Sam replied, trying to mask the hurt he now felt.

"Just go to sleep Sam," Dean said, grabbing his duffel and disappearing into the bathroom.

Sam lay down, rolling onto his side, his back toward the bathroom and Dean's bed. 'What the hell did I do?' Sam thought to himself, wondering why Dean seemed pissed at him all of the sudden. He closed his eyes, willing himself to go to sleep, but he knew sleep wouldn't come easy tonight.

Dean stood in front of the mirror, looking at his reflection. "What's wrong with me?" he said silently. When he came into the room and saw Sam look at him, smiling, instead of feeling happy he felt like grabbing Sam and slapping the smile right off his face. It was all he could do to not jump across the bed and strangle the kid. He splashed cold water on his face and changed into his sleeping clothes. He took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door.

Dean walked to his bed, glancing at the prone form of his little brother on the other bed. He sat down on his bed, his back to Sam, trying to push the anger he now felt toward Sam away. He lay down and turned off the light, closing his eyes, hoping sleep would come soon.

Sleep did come and along with it, dreams. Bad dreams. Dreams of his mother being killed; his father being killed. But in his dreams, it wasn't the yellow eyed demon that killed his parents. No, it was much worse. In his dreams, the one killing his parents was Sam.

Dean awoke with a start several hours later, sweating profusely and gasping for air. He turned his head and looked at Sam, who was sprawled out on his back, snoring lightly. Dean rose from his bed. Grabbing a pillow in both hands, he approached his sleeping brother.

He knew what he had to do. This had to end once and for all, and he vowed it would end today. He took the pillow and pressed it down over Sam's face. Sam immediately began to struggle, grabbing the strong arms that were trying to smother him. Yes, Dean thought, it would end today, and he pressed the pillow down harder.

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**There's chapter 1. Please let me know what you think.**

**Cindy.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, the response to this has been overwhelming! Thank you all so much. Here is the next chapter.**

**Cindy.**

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Pressure on his face brought Sam awake with a jolt. He couldn't breathe, and it took him a moment before he realized he was being smothered with what felt like a pillow. Survival mode kicked in and he grabbed the two strong arms that were pressing the pillow onto his face, cutting off his air supply. He bucked up from the bed in an attempt to break the hold the intruder had on him. He tried kicking out, but his legs were confined by the blankets.

He had a brief thought of Dean. Was he okay? Had they already gotten to him? Sam beat and clawed the arms, trying to dislodge them, but his head was swimming and his movements were becoming more and more sluggish. He had no more strength left to fight. His last thought before he felt the darkness claim him was of Dean.

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Dean continued to press on the pillow as Sam tried in vain to free himself. Sam's body lurched up from the bed, but the effort was of no good, he was already too weak to do much to loosen Dean's hold. He continued to beat on Dean's arms, but each hit became weaker until his arms fell limply to his sides. A smile crept across Dean's face. He glanced down to Sam's limp arms and then he saw the dark bruising around his right wrist. Something clicked in Dean's mind, and he jerked the pillow away, staring at his brother's lax face in horror.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered, his whole body shaking. He walked to the side of the bed, his feet feeling as if they were weighted down. Sam was pale, his lips tinged a sickening blue. Dean leaned over Sam in shock and whispered again. "Sammy, please wake up."

Suddenly Sam gasped, his eyes flying open and darting around the room frantically. "DEAN!" he screamed, before realizing that Dean was standing beside the bed looking at him with a spaced out look on his face. And Dean was holding a pillow. When Sam saw the pillow, his eyes widened as realization hit. He jumped from the bed, his legs tangling in the blankets. He nearly fell, but finally stood up on the opposite side of the bed.

"Dean! What the hell!?" Sam shouted, holding his hand out in front of him as Dean started moving toward him.

"Sam, I don't know what...I had a nightmare. Oh my God, are you okay?" Dean cried, stopping when he saw the fear in his little brothers eyes.

"No! I'm not okay. You just tried to kill me! Would you be okay?" Sam swayed slightly and backed up until his back hit the wall. "God Dean! I thought whoever was attacking me had already gotten to you. What's going on?"

"I don't know Sam. I remember going out to get my phone last night, and then I woke up from a bad nightmare, then the next thing I remember is looking down and seeing myself holding a pillow over your face! I pulled it away and you looked like...Oh God Sammy! You looked like you were dead!" Dean cried, suddenly realizing that he was still holding onto the pillow. He threw it violently across the room as if it burned his hands.

Sam stood with his back against the wall, not sure what to do. He watched Dean warily as Dean moved to sit on the end of Sam's bed, resting his head in his hands.

"Sam, I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened. I don't know what's wrong with me. The thoughts I'm having. I think I'm going crazy," Dean whispered, Sam barely able to hear his words.

"Dean, I...I don't know what to say to you. I guess maybe you were still in your dream. But, who's to say this won't happen again?" Sam said, warily moving toward his bed, then sitting down next to Dean.

Dean glanced up at Sam, still seeing fear in his hazel eyes. Fear he had put there. He had just about killed his brother, and here was Sam, as scared as he was, trying to comfort him. If he hadn't seen Sam's bruised wrist, he probably would have succeeded in killing him. A shudder quaked through his body, and he quickly rose from the bed, afraid that he might hurt Sam again.

"Sam, please, are you okay?" Dean asked, his voice shaking.

"I'm...I'm okay Dean. But I don't know what to do. This could happen again, if you have another nightmare. Do we take that chance?" Sam asked, his eyes pleading with Dean to fix this.

"I'll figure this out Sam, I promise. I just need to think. I'm gonna go for a drive for a while to clear my head. You stay here, get some rest, okay?" Dean said, removing his sleep clothes and dressing in his jeans and a sweatshirt.

"Yeah, okay Dean," Sam replied. "Dean, I really am fine."

"No you're not Sam. You're afraid of me. I can see it in your eyes, but I will fix this."

"I'm sorry Dean. It's just...." Sam began, but couldn't finish the sentence.

"Sammy, you have nothing to be sorry for. You have every right to be afraid. I...I almost killed you, and I don't know why!" Dean cried, pulling on his jacket and grabbing his keys and cell phone. "You get some rest. I'll be back later. I'll bring you breakfast, okay?"

"Okay Dean. Be careful," Sam replied, his eyes falling to his hands that were clasped on his lap.

Dean glanced at Sam, on the verge of tears. He swallowed, pushing the tears back. "I will fix this Sam. I will, I promise!" he said before slipping out the door.

"I hope so Dean," Sam whispered, a single tear falling down his cheek.

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**That's all for now. I may post another chapter later tonight. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you thought.**

**Cindy.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I just can't get over the response to this story. Thank you all so much. You make me very happy. This chapter has a few choice words so be warned. I hope you like it.**

**Cindy**

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Dean had been driving around for several hours, a myriad of thoughts running through his head. The thoughts bounced around from horror at what he had done to Sam, to resentment and hatred of Sam. His head had begun to throb, so he decided to pull over for awhile. He found himself at the outskirts of town near a small lake.

Dean pulled into a parking area and got out of the car. He headed to a picnic table near the lake and sat on the bench. He rested his head in his hands then brushed his hands through his hair. He was going crazy, that was the only explanation. Why else would he have such dark thoughts running through his head? Why else would he try to kill the most important person to ever exist in his life? The one he swore to protect above all others. The one who in spite of everything that had been cruelly handed to him in his life, had retained an innocence and goodness that defied all logic.

How could he protect Sam now? How could he protect him, when it was Dean himself that Sam needed protection from? This was all sorts of messed up, and Dean was at a complete loss as to what to do. The dark thoughts kept trying to push through and Dean was terrified that he would hurt Sam again. Maybe even succeed in killing him.

Dean came to the conclusion that he and Sam needed to separate, at least until he figured this all out. He needed to keep Sam safe and if he was the threat, then Sam needed to be away from him. He would send Sam to stay with Bobby until this all blew over. Bobby would keep him safe.

Dean now knew what he had to do, but couldn't bring himself to face Sam just yet. Sam wouldn't understand, would say there had to be another way. Dean felt it in his soul that he was a danger to Sam, and he would protect him at all costs, even if it meant being apart. The thought of it tore him up inside, and he knew that Sam would be devastated, but it needed to be done.

Dean slowly shuffled to the impala and slid into the seat. He rested his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. Within minutes he was asleep, his slumber disturbed by terrifying dreams. His mother, father, Jess, Pastor Jim, Caleb and a number of nameless faces flashed through his mind. All dead because of the yellow eyed demon. And the one thing linking all the dead to the demon was Sam.

When Dean awoke, he was surprised, as it appeared to be late afternoon. He hadn't realized he was that tired. The dreams had ended, but their message was firmly etched in his mind. Dean started the impala and pulled out of the parking area. He headed toward town, to the motel where Sam was waiting for him.

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Sam was frantic. When Dean had left, instructing Sam to rest, he had said he would be back soon. Well, try as he might, sleep had been impossible. Sam had kept busy on the computer for awhile, but his head wasn't in it. So he had spent the day pacing then flipping channels, then back to pacing again. Now it was 6:30 in the evening and Dean still hadn't returned. Sam's thoughts had run the gamut of possible scenarios for Dean's absence. Was he hurt somewhere, needing help? Was he dead? Or did he just run off, leaving Sam to figure things out on his own? Sam lost count of how many times he had tried Dean's phone, every call going straight to voicemail.

Sam made the decision to go snag a car and look for Dean. As he was walking out the door, the impala pulled into the parking lot. Sam stopped at the door and waited for Dean to park and get out of the car. "Where you going Sam?" Dean asked, walking up and looking into Sam's eyes.

"I was coming to look for you," Sam replied, turning and re-entering the motel room.

"Sorry Sam, time got away from me," Dean quipped as he followed Sam into the room.

"Shit Dean! You scared the crap out of me!" Sam cried, a little bewildered at Dean's attitude.

"Look, I had a lot to sort out. I've come up with a solution though."

"Yeah? What is it?" Sam asked, sensing he wasn't going to like what Dean had to say.

"Well, the only thing that makes sense is for you to go to Bobby's for awhile, just until I can figure this out," Dean said, glancing sideways at Sam.

"What! No Dean! I'm not leaving you. We can figure this out together!" Sam cried.

"And what if I hurt you again Sam?"

"You won't! We'll figure something out!"

"Like what? You going to tie me to the bed? Or maybe you can lock yourself in the bathroom and sleep in the tub!" Dean shouted, turning his angry gaze on Sam.

"I don't know Dean, but I just feel that if we separate, something bad will happen. I don't want to go to Bobby's. I want to stay with you!"

Dean gave a short laugh, turning his back to Sam. "That's just like you Sam."

"What? What's just like me?" Sam asked, noticing a slight change in Dean's voice.

"It's always about what you want. You are the most selfish ass I have ever known! Why does it always have to be about you? Huh?" Dean hissed.

"Dean, what are you talking about? It's not always about me! I only want what's best for you," Sam said, confusion laced in his voice.

Before Sam knew what happened, Dean spun around and slammed him against the wall, his eyes seeing stars from the impact his head made. Dean pinned Sam to the wall by pushing his arm across Sam's throat. Sam grabbed Dean's arm, trying to loosen his grip. "Dean, I...hard to breathe," Sam gasped, his eyes pleading with his brother.

"You know Sam, I was trying to be nice. I was trying to spare your sensitive little feelings, but you know what? Screw your feelings! I've been protecting your feelings my whole fucking life. Not anymore!" Dean seethed, his breaths coming out in hot gasps.

"Dean, please...I can't breathe!"

Dean loosened his grip a little and Sam drew in a painful breath.

"You know Sam, you've been right this whole time, but I've talked you out of it and you know why? For Dad. He said to watch out for you and I have. My entire life I've been watching out for you and your pathetic feelings. But no more! It's time you knew."

"Knew what Dean?" Sam whispered through his burning throat.

"Mom, Dad, Jessica, Pastor Jim, Caleb. Oh, and don't forget all the other unfortunate people along the way. They are all dead because of you!"

"Wh...what? No Dean, it was the demon," Sam cried. His knees felt weak and he knew he would have fallen if it hadn't been for Dean pinning him to the wall.

"And just who does the demon want Sam!? YOU!! That's who. I've lost everyone Sam! And why? Because you were born! If you hadn't been born, the demon would have never been in my life. Mom and Dad would be alive and I would have a fucking life!" Dean glared into Sam's distraught eyes, laughing at the tears that were cascading down his cheeks.

"Dean, please, don't say that. Please?" Sam pled, his heart pounding painfully in his chest.

"Shut up Sam! You're nothing but a whiny, spoiled little baby. I hate you Sam and I always have. I want you to pack your bag and leave!"

"No Dean! You don't mean that! This isn't you! I love you Dean. Please don't do this!"

Dean pushed his arm harder onto Sam's throat, his fury boiling over. "If you don't leave, I will kill you Sam," he hissed, then let go of Sam, letting him drop to the floor, gasping for air. Sam curled into a ball, coughing and gagging before his breaths finally started coming more easily.

"Get up Sam!" Dean demanded, giving Sam's leg a kick.

Sam slowly pulled himself up from the floor, his hand nursing his aching throat. His eyes never left Dean, searching for any sign of the brother he loved. All he saw were hate filled eyes glaring at him.

"Dean...please."

"Pack your bag Sam."

"Please don't do this."

"I hate you Sam."

A sob escaped Sam, and he began gathering his meager belongings together, then stuffed them into his duffel bag. His whole world had just come crashing down around him. The brother that he loves more than life hates him, blames him. Dean was right, he should never have been born. Of course he always knew this, but Dean had always convinced him otherwise. Now Dean was telling him what he really thought. All this time, Dean hated him, pretending to love him because Dad wanted it.

"Dean, I'm sorry," Sam whispered softly.

"Just get the fuck out!" Dean spat.

Sam slowly opened the door, the cold evening air blasting him. He turned once more to Dean, his eyes pleading. "I love you Dean. Always have, always will."

"I hate you," Dean said emotionlessly.

Another sob escaped Sam, and he turned and walked out the door, disappearing into the night.

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**Okay, so that's it. What do you think? I know, I'm so mean! More tomorrow. Take care all.**

**Cindy.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, this is an extremely short chapter but hey, it's a bonus chappie so I hope the fact that another chapter will be coming this evening makes up for it. Thanks to all who are reading this and for all of the lovely comments. I am continually blown away by the response. So, until tonight..................**

**Cindy.**

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Dean watched Sam close the door, a smirk on his face. His eyes were blank, but then as if a switch was thrown, the light returned to them. His heart began to pound in his chest painfully. _'What have I done?'_ he thought, horror flooding his senses. He started toward the door, Sam's name already on his lips, when he was struck with an agonizing pain. It was the same pain from the previous night, and he stumbled backwards, falling onto the bed and clutching his forehead. A wave of dizziness flooded over him as he tried to stand and move to the door again. He fell back onto the bed as darkness slowly engulfed him. His final thought before succumbing to the darkness was of Sam and the look of hurt and devastation in his bewildered, hazel eyes.

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Sam stumbled across the parking lot, his eyes glazed over with unshed tears. He paid no attention to the direction he was going. He just needed to get away from there. As far away as he could. He barely noticed the icy fingers of the night wind as it blew down the neck of his jacket, causing him to shiver. His mind went back to the motel room and Dean. Dean hated him; wished he had never been born. He blamed him for all of the deaths. His mom, Dad, Jess and all the others. Of course, Sam had always blamed himself, but what kept him going was knowing that Dean didn't. He knew he always had Dean's love and respect. But now that was gone. It had all been a cruel lie.

There was nothing left for him there now. Nothing left for him anywhere. He briefly thought of going to Bobby's, but Dean could show up there at any time, and he couldn't bare to see the hatred in his eyes again. He decided to find a bus station and just go as far as what little money he had would take him. Beyond that, he didn't know what he would do. He had nobody. He couldn't go to Bobby's, nor could he go to the Roadhouse. He felt so totally removed from the few friends that he had made at Stanford, so they were not an option either.

He was alone in the world. He had never felt so devastated, and he could no longer hold the tears at bay. He stumbled along, chin to his chest, not caring where he was going or what happened to him. He had lost everyone he loved, and nothing mattered anymore.

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**So, I said it was short, but I think it said alot! What do you think? Please let me know. **

**Cindy**


	5. Chapter 5

**My gosh, I seem to have hit a nerve with this story. Thank you to all who are reading, I really appreciate it. Here is the bonus chapter as promised. I hope you like it.**

**Cindy.**

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Dean awoke slowly, finding it hard to open his eyes. There was a drumline playing in his head and he wondered if he'd had that much fun last night. He couldn't remember much, but the last time he'd felt like this he'd had ten too many shot's and collected twenty too many phone numbers from girls he couldn't remember.

"Sammy! What the hell did I drink last night? I feel like shit!" he croaked as he slit one eye open and glanced at the clock. "Shit! It's 3:30?"

Dean waited for Sam to stir, but hoped he hadn't disturbed him this early. When he didn't hear Sam, he closed his eyes again and fell back to sleep. Another few hours later Dean awoke again. The headache had dulled and he felt as though he could probably sit up without falling off the bed. It was still dark outside, but he was able to discern that he was still fully clothed. Images flashed through his head, and he squeezed his eyes shut. _'Those were some freaky, messed up dreams last night,_' Dean thought, a bit disturbed by the memories.

"Hey Sam! Rise and shine Sleeping Beauty!" Dean shouted, not turning to look at his brother's bed. When he didn't get a response, he suddenly realized that Sam was completely silent. He couldn't even hear Sam's soft snore. He turned his head toward Sam's bed, and sucked in a quick breath when he saw Sam's bed was empty and had not been slept in. He looked toward the bathroom but saw the door was open and the light was off.

Dean pulled himself up from his bed, reaching over at the same time and switching on the light. Not only was Sam not there, but all of his belongings were gone too. Everything except his laptop. A realization hit and he had to sit before his legs gave out on him. "That wasn't a bad dream. I really said those things to Sam," he whispered to himself.

Bile rose in his throat and he barely made it to the bathroom before he was vomiting the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He continued retching, and when he was finally done, he sat up, leaning against the tub, exhaustion keeping him from rising. He lowered his head and rested it on his knees then wrapped his arms around his legs. He was on the verge of tears, the words he'd said last night ringing through his mind.

He remembered the look of devastation on Sam's face when he told him that he hated him, that he blamed him. He'd told Sam that he wished he had never been born. Then he remembered the last thing Sam had said before he walked out into the cold. _'I love you Dean. Always have, always will.'_ And Dean had answered back, _'I hate you.'_

"Oh my God Sammy! What have I done?" Dean whispered, then he let the tears fall.

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Sam trudged on, head down, paying no attention to anything around him. He had completely shut down, his mind wandering from one inane thought to the next. He was unaware of the tears that continued to fall, even as they nearly froze on his face. He was brought back to reality when he accidentally ran into someone with his shoulder.

"Watch it dickhead!" the man snarled, grabbing Sam's arm and spinning him around.

Sam looked up at the man and whispered a soft apology. The man looked familiar, but for the life of him, Sam couldn't remember where he had seen him.

Recognition lit the man's eyes as a sinister smile crossed his face. "Well, if it isn't the little pool hustler!" the man hissed, glaring at Sam before glancing at the two large men that were with him.

"Oh come on," Sam said when he realized where he had seen the man before.

"So, where's your little boyfriend kid?" the man asked, then noticed Sam's tears. "Oh look, he's crying. Did your boyfriend dump you sweetheart?"

"He's not my boyfriend, he's my brother! Just leave him out of this!" Sam spat.

"Okay, okay! Don't have a hissy fit Sparky!"

"Just leave me alone."

"I don't think so. You have something of mine and I intend to get it back!"

"I beat you fair and square, you're just a sore loser asshole!" Sam hissed.

Without warning, the man grabbed Sam's hair and drove his fist into Sam's face, splitting his lip and causing blood to spurt from his nose. Sam stumbled back, spitting blood out onto the sidewalk. Strong arms grabbed him by his arms and began to drag him from the sidewalk to the side of the building they were in front of. Sam struggled, trying to free himself, but the two men holding him were almost his height and much bigger than him. They dragged him until they were behind the building and out of sight.

"Hold him still!" the man spat then rammed his knee into Sam's stomach so hard that Sam couldn't catch his breath. He felt bile rise in his throat, but swallowed it down, refusing to give the man the satisfaction of seeing him vomit. The man grabbed Sam by the hair again, lifting his face up before hissing, "You're so going to regret ever meeting me boy!"

Another punch landed on Sam's jaw, jerking his head to the side violently and causing his vision to swim. The arms holding him suddenly let him go, but he was able to remain on his feet, barely. He tried to fight back, but his heart wasn't in it. What was the point? His life meant nothing now, and maybe this was exactly what he deserved. He dropped to his knees and a kick to the back took him down the rest of the way.

All three men began to pummel Sam, first with their fists then with well placed kicks to his ribs and stomach. Sam lay on the ground, barely conscious, his body jerking with each impact. He rolled to his side, no longer able to keep from vomiting.

The man leaned over Sam and pulled his wallet from his pocket, pulling the money from it, before tossing it against the building. Next, he removed Sam's watch and the ring that was a gift from Jessica. The other two men dug through Sam's duffel bag, withdrawing his hunting knife, one of them stuffing it into his coat pocket.

"Come on, let's get the hell out of here!" the man from the bar shouted to his goons. He gave Sam one more kick before leaving him bloody and broken on the cold ground.

Sam lay for a moment before he rolled to his stomach and tried to push himself up. Nausea washed over him again and he dropped back down, his retching sending sharp pains through his entire body.

"Mmmm...God!" he gasped when the retching ceased.

Dark spots formed in his vision, and he rolled to his back. The pain in his stomach and ribs was overwhelming and he welcomed the darkness as it claimed him.

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**There you go. I hope you all liked it. And as always, reviews are love. More tomorrow.**

**Cindy.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay, here is the next chapter. No promises, but I may post another chapter later tonight, time allowing. Enjoy.**

**Cindy.**

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Dean sat for what seemed like hours on the cold tile floor of the bathroom, slumped against the bathtub. The preceding night's events played through his mind, taunting him cruelly. He could hear his words as well as Sam's, could see the look on Sam's face, the hurt in his eyes. But it was like he was seeing and hearing it as a bystander, not the person who had said those vile things. Not the one who had betrayed his brother so cruelly. But it was his voice that spat the words. It was his eyes that had looked at Sam with hatred. It was his mind that had held the murderous thoughts. But was it? Dean didn't feel the things that had been said. He had never blamed Sam for anything, and he certainly didn't hate Sam. He could never hate Sam. So why did he say the cruel words? Why did he hurt Sam? Why did he try to kill him?

The ringing of his phone brought Dean out of his musings, and he quickly pulled the phone from his pocket, hoping against hope that it was Sam. He looked at the caller ID screen and flipped the phone open.

"Bobby? What's up?" Dean asked, his voice emotionless, exhausted.

"Dean, you need to listen to me! You need to get yourself and Sam to my place as soon as possible! Leave now Dean!" Bobby exclaimed, urgency in his voice.

The urgency seemed to break through the fog in Dean's mind, and he pulled himself up from the floor, clutching the phone tightly in his hand. "Bobby, what's wrong?"

"Don't let Sam out of your sight Dean! You need to get him here now! He'll be protected here!"

"I don't understand Bobby. Protected from what?"

"Sam is in danger. Ellen called. Ash has been tracking some disturbing demon signs. They are all over the place!"

"Yeah, so what does that have to do with Sam?" Dean asked, fear knotting his stomach.

"Ash did an extensive search of each occurance, and found a death each time. Six deaths in all. Each person killed was one of the psychics Dean!" Bobby exclaimed.

"What!? How does he know?" Dean asked, confusion in his voice.

"Ash apparently refined his program for locating the kids like Sam. He was able to locate more of them. All of them are dead. Killed by a demon."

"Is it yellow eyes?" Dean asked, his heart beating frantically in his chest.

"No, I don't think so. Why would yellow eyes kill his supposed army? No Dean, I think this is a different demon. It doesn't want to use the psychics, it wants to kill them. You have to get Sam here. My place is protected."

"Uh...well, that is going to be a bit difficult Bobby. Sam's gone, and I don't know where he is. He's been gone nearly twelve hours now and it's all my fault! I...I sent him away," Dean whispered the last part, his words making him sick.

"What do you mean you sent him away Dean?"

"I told him he was to blame for Mom, Dad, Jess and everyone else Bobby! And I told him I hated him and that if he didn't leave I'd kill him," Dean cried, his voice shaking with emotion.

"Dean, why would you say those things? My God! You don't honestly think Sam is to blame do you? And I know you don't hate Sam. Oh my God...Sam!" Bobby responded with shock.

"No Bobby! I could never think those things. You know I'd die for that kid!"

"Then why did you say it Dean?"

"I don't know! It was like someone else was talking. Bobby, what's happening?"

"Dean, you need to tell me everything. We'll figure this out. And we'll find Sam!"

Dean relayed everything to Bobby as it had played out. By the end, he was on the verge of tears. He brushed a shaky hand through his hair, taking deep breaths to calm his nerves.

"Okay Dean, I think I may know what's going on. The pain and dizziness you felt, I think was the demon. It got to you somehow. It tried to use you to kill Sam, but when that didn't work, it went to plan B. It put those thoughts in your head, made you believe them. It put the words in your mouth, then made you say them."

"But, why Bobby? What was the purpose?" Dean asked, bewildered.

"To separate you two. It'll be less difficult to get to Sam with you out of the way."

"We have to find Sam! He has no idea he's in danger Bobby. My God, it could have him already!" Dean cried, pacing feverishly back and forth beside his bed.

"We'll find him Dean. Have you tried calling him?"

"Shit! I didn't think to!"

"I'll try getting his location using the GPS in his phone. You try calling him. I'll call you as soon as I have his location."

"Thanks Bobby. We'll find him won't we?"

"We will Dean. I'll call you soon. And Dean? None of this is your fault. You weren't in control of yourself."

"Yeah, so why do I feel like I betrayed my little brother?"

"I'm sorry Dean. We will find him, I promise."

"Thanks" Dean said then hung up his phone. He hit the speed dial for Sam's phone, cursing when it went unanswered. _'What do you expect! He thinks you hate him asshole!'_ Dean thought to himself, then hit speed dial again with the same results.

"Shit! Sam, where are you?"

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Sam awoke slowly, groaning in pain at the slightest movement. He reached a shaking hand up to finger his aching jaw, wincing at the contact. He was shivering from the cold, which did not sit well with his injured ribs. He rolled carefully onto his side, then to his stomach and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. He stayed that way for a moment waiting for the dizziness that had swept over him to pass. Once he felt steady enough, he pushed himself to his feet then staggered to the building, placing his hand on the wall for support. He glanced at his hand absently, then straightened slightly when he saw his watch and ring were missing.

"Son of bitch!" he cried hoarsely, before breaking into a coughing fit that nearly sent him to his knees from the pain. He reached back and patted his back pocket, only to find that his wallet was missing as well. He pushed away from the wall and searched the ground, hoping to find any of his missing belongings. His vision was still hazy, and with the darkness adding to that, he was unable to see anything even remotely resembling his things.

"Great!" Sam muttered under his breath. "I guess I won't be taking the bus now."

But it wasn't his wallet and money he was truly upset about. Dean had given him the watch for his birthday right before he left for Stanford. And the ring. It was a gift from Jessica for their first year together. It was the only thing he had left of her, except his memories. Those things couldn't be replaced.

Sam shook his head sadly, then began to slowly make his way back to the street. He wasn't far from the highway and now that he was penniless, he would need to thumb it to escape this town and his brother. He stumbled over something, but didn't bother to look down to see what it was. He made his way around the building and finally to the sidewalk where he stepped off the curb, his head down and his gait unsteady. He didn't even register the car that was bearing down on him until he heard the screech of tires and the blaring horn. He raised his head as if in a daze and silently watched as the car skidded to a halt a mere three feet from him. In an instant the driver was out of the car and screaming at him in a hysterical voice.

"Are you out of your mind!? I almost ran you over! Didn't your mom ever teach you to look both ways before crossing the street?" the woman shouted, then stopped short when she saw Sam's bloody and bruised face.

"Um...my mom died when I was a...a baby, so...I, uh," Sam stammered, then began to sway. The woman grabbed him to steady him, looking at him with concern in her eyes.

"Oh my God! What happened to you? You need a hospital. Here, let me take you!" she cried.

Sam weakly pulled away, pushing the woman's hands from him. "No hospital. I...I'm fine. I just got jumped...um, robbed. I just want to get out of here," he said, stumbling away from the woman.

"Let me call the police. Please, you're hurt. Let me help you!"

"No police. I just need to go," Sam cried softly. His knees suddenly buckled and he would have gone down if the woman hadn't caught him

"Here, at least let me get you into my car. You're freezing!" she said urgently.

"Th...Thanks" Sam sputtered, and allowed himself to be led to the woman's car. She opened the door and gently guided his tall frame into the passenger seat before slamming the door and rushing back to the drivers side.

"Let me turn the heat up for you!" she exclaimed as she got into the car. "So, where do you live? Can I drop you off?" She reached across Sam and opened the glove compartment, extracting a package of baby wipes.

"I...was going to the bus station, but now I have no money, no credit cards. They took everything," Sam said, his teeth chattering. "I guess I'll have to hitchhike."

"Oh my God! You can't do that, you'll freeze to death!" the woman cried. "Where are you going at this time of night anyway?"

"Anywhere but here. As far away as I can get," Sam answered, lowering his eyes.

"Here, let me clean you up a bit." The woman began to gently clean the dried blood from Sam's face with the baby wipes. Sam winced when she touched his split lip, flinching away from her. "Sorry, sorry. Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital? You're holding your side. Are your ribs hurt too?"

"No money or insurance card, so no hospital. I think my ribs are bruised, but I'll be fine. I've had much worse," Sam replied, nursing his ribs and stomach.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, what are you running away from anyway?"

"Someone who I thought loved me, who had my back. I thought wrong." Sam felt the tears begin to well up again, but held them in. He refused to shed anymore tears.

"Was it your girlfriend?"

"No. My brother." Sam's answer was short, and he turned his head toward the window, effectively ending the conversation.

The woman stared at Sam, her own eyes welling with tears. The pain she saw in Sam's eyes was not just from the physical injuries he had. His pain ran much deeper than that and she felt the sudden urge to just grab the young man and hug him, but she didn't.

"So, I'm heading to Colorado Springs. I can take you that far, if you want," she said, waiting for Sam's answer.

Sam slowly turned back to her, his eyes expressing his relief that someone cared enough to go out of their way to help him. "Are you sure? I mean, you don't even know me," Sam whispered softly.

"I'm a pretty good judge of people, and I see you as someone who just needs a little compassion. My name's Janet by the way," the woman said, extending her hand to Sam.

"Sam," he replied, taking her hand and shaking it softly. "Thank you."

"No problem. So, are you hungry? We could stop for dinner, my treat," Janet said, smiling kindly.

"I guess I am a little hungry. I can't remember when I ate last. Could we maybe stop in the next town though?" Sam replied, a sheepish look on his face.

"Yeah, sure. I understand," Janet said, pulling her car back onto the street.

They were soon on the highway, heading west to Colorado, away from Dean. Sam didn't know what the future held for him, and he didn't really care. The one person who he lived for, who made him care no longer wanted him around. He figured he would keep hunting, as he didn't know any other life. He would keep doing it until he died, which in his mind, couldn't come soon enough. Sam rested his head against the cool window, and soon fell off to sleep. If he could only have known what waited out there for him.

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**That's it for now. I hope you like it.**

**Cindy**


	7. Chapter 7

Dean tried Sam's phone several more times, all to no avail. He had left several frantic messages but he had a feeling that Sam would never get them. He was crazy with worry, so when his phone rang he nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked at the caller ID, reading Bobby's name there.

"Bobby! Did you find Sam?" Dean cried, nearly dropping the phone as he was shaking so hard.

"I got his location. He's still there in Westside," Bobby replied before giving Dean the address. Dean was out the door and at the impala before Bobby had even finished talking.

"Thanks Bobby! I'll call you back once I find him," Dean said, closing his phone. He slid behind the wheel of the car, started it up and peeled out of the lot.

When Dean found the location Bobby had given him, he parked and jumped from his car, his eyes searching the area for Sam. He stood in front of a closed drugstore. There was no one around, as it was still too early for anyone to be out and about.

"Come on Sammy. Where are you?" Dean muttered under his breath. As he was scanning the area, he noticed some spots on the sidewalk. He crouched down, touching the spots then bringing his fingers to his nose. His heart dropped as he realized that it was blood. He knew in his heart that it was Sam's. He glanced further up the sidewalk and saw there were more spots leading around the corner of the darkened building. He followed the trail of blood while once again calling Sam's phone. He held his phone at his side as he listened for Sam's ringtone, and when he heard a faint ringing coming from close to the back of the building, he picked up his pace.

As he neared the back of the building he noticed something lying on the ground. As he got closer, he realized it was Sam's phone. It had stopped ringing and Dean placed his phone to his ear, listening to Sam's voice asking him to leave a message. Dean reached down and picked up the phone, holding it tightly in his hand. He swallowed slowly, then turned the corner of the building, fearful of what he might find. As he came around the corner, he tripped on something and looked down, his heart jumping into his throat. He had tripped on Sam's duffel bag. It was open, and his clothes had been pulled from the bag and scattered over the ground.

Dean crouched down and quickly stuffed Sam's things back into the bag. His eyes scanned the area, looking for any sign of Sam. Once he had all of Sam's clothes in the bag, he stood up and walked further behind the building, searching frantically for his brother. He spied another object lying next to the building and upon reaching it, took in a quick gasp. He bent over and retrieved Sam's wallet. He looked inside, noting that the money had been taken. Fury began to build in him. He had a picture in his mind of his brother being beaten and robbed and he couldn't shake the image from his mind.

He turned a circle, hoping to find any clues as to what exactly had gone down here. It was then that he saw a large dark spot on the ground a few feet away. He walked to the spot, realizing it was more blood, and near that was a puddle of dried vomit. But where was Sam? Was he taken, or did he leave on his own?

"Son of a bitch! Someone is going to pay dearly for touching my brother!" Dean seethed, his face red with rage.

He pulled his phone back up and dialed Bobby's number, waiting for the call to be answered.

"Dean! Did you find Sam?" Bobby said upon answering.

"No Bobby. I found his phone and wallet, all of his stuff, but no Sam. It looks like he was jumped and robbed. There's blood, but no Sam," Dean answered, panic making his voice shake.

"Dean, we'll find him. Everything will be okay," Bobby soothed, not sure if he believed it himself.

"How Bobby? He doesn't have his phone. He has no money, no credit cards. It's freezing out and we have no idea where he went, or even if he went there of his own free will!" Dean spat, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Dean, I need you to calm down. Tell me what motel you're at. I'll call Ellen, have her tell Ash to keep a watch out for more demon signs. That may be the only way to find out where Sam is," Bobby said. "I'll be there in about six hours."

"Bobby, if we wait for demon signs, it may be too late. Hell, it may already be too late!" Dean cried.

"Dean, Ash would have called if he noticed anything. Sam's still okay. Now, tell me where you're staying."

'Um, Niteliter Motor Inn. Bobby, we don't even know how badly Sam's hurt. What if whomever robbed him hurt him worse than the amount of blood shows? Or what if they took him?"

"Dean, I'm sure that whomever jumped him beat him up some, but I doubt they took him. He probably walked out of there on his own."

"But why would he leave his stuff?"

"Maybe he was out of it. I don't really know Dean. Look, go back and get some rest and I'll see you later. I'm on my way."

"Thanks Bobby. See you soon" Dean said then ended the call.

Dean scanned the area once more before walking back around the building and heading for the impala. Upon reaching the car, he opened the back door and placed Sam's duffel bag on the back seat. He then got in behind the wheel and placed Sam's wallet and phone on the seat beside him.

He sat unmoving for several minutes before he suddenly began to beat his hands onto the steering wheel. He had to find Sam. He had to make this right. But he also had to find whoever robbed Sam and make them pay for hurting his little brother.

He started the car and drove down the street, past the bar that he and Sam had played pool at the other night. He thought back to that night. It had started so well. He and Sam had been having fun together, playing pool, making some money. They had joked and laughed with each other. Then it had all changed, and now Sam was gone to God knows where, and Dean had only himself to blame. He knew that it had been a demon, but he should have been able to stop it.

Dean drove a little further down the street then pulled into the parking lot at Liz's Diner. He didn't really feel like eating, but he knew he had to. He wondered if Sam had eaten anything since they had stopped at the diner last.

Dean felt useless, lost. He had no idea where Sam was or if he was okay. He had allowed himself to be used by a demon and now Sam thought that he blamed him for their parents and Jessica's deaths. Sam believed that Dean hated him. Dean was terrified that he would never see Sam alive again. He dreaded the call from Ash, telling him that he had found Sam and that he was the seventh psychic to fall victim to the demon.

He couldn't let that happen! He had to find Sam. He had to convince him that everything that had been said was a lie. He had to have his brother back so he could prove to him how much he loved him, and that he didn't blame him for anything. Dean would go to hell and back for Sam, and he wouldn't stop until he found him.

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_"He's coming for you Sam. Run! We're already dead, but you can still save yourself! Run Sam! Run!" the voice called from the fog. Sam turned in circles, trying to discern where the voice was coming from. Who was coming for him? And who were the one's that were already dead? As he stared into the fog, a dark figure slowly emerged, walking steadily toward him. He tried to run but found that he was no longer outside, but was inside an empty room, pinned to the wall by an invisible force. He heard a faint laugh before the dark figure appeared in front of him. The man slowly raised his head and Sam gasped when he saw the man's glowing red eyes._

"I've been waiting for you Samuel," the man said.

"What do you want with me?" Sam asked, his voice sounding weak and small.

"You must die Samuel. Yellow eyes, as you call him, can't have you. My master demands this," the man replied, an evil grin on his face.

Sam's arms were pulled from his sides and raised until they were spread out straight from his body.

"You are the saint Samuel, so you will die as the One did."

Suddenly, a spike flew from nowhere and embedded itself through Sam's right palm, impaling his hand to the wall. Sam screamed, but no sound came out. Then, his other hand was impaled in the same way. Another silent scream was let loose. Sam's breath hitched and a sheen of sweat broke out on his body. The man approached Sam then pushed a ring of thorns painfully over his head. Blood immediately began to trickle from the many wounds on his head. The man then ripped the shirt from Sam's body, leaving his chest and stomach bare and vulnerable.

"Now for the final act Samuel," the man said before pushing a spear into Sam's side. Blood spurted from the wound, cascading down Sam's leg. Sam screamed, and this time he found his voice. He screamed and screamed.....……………..

"Sam! Wake up! Are you okay?" Janet shouted, shaking Sam's shoulder.

Sam came awake with a jolt, gasping for air and grabbing his side. He looked fearfully at Janet before holding his hands in front of him. No wounds, no blood. It was a dream. Janet stared at him, her eyes wide with concern.

"Oh...God!" Sam cried, the pain from the absent wounds still fresh in his mind.

"Sam, are you okay?" Janet asked, reaching her hand toward the frightened man.

"I...I'm fine. Just a nightmare," Sam replied, flinching when Janet touched his arm.

"Well, okay. Uh, we're in Colorado Springs. This is as far as I can take you. Are you sure you're okay? You are so pale."

"I'm okay. Thank you for the ride and dinner. I really do appreciate it," Sam replied, reaching for the door.

Janet reached out and placed her hand gently on Sam's arm. "Sam. Let me give you some money. You're going to need to find a motel and get something to eat soon."

"No, please. You've done more than enough already. I'll be fine Janet. Thank you so much," Sam said, a sad smile forming on his lips.

"Are you sure Sam? It's really no problem."

"I'm sure. I have friends near here. I'll just make my way to them. I really am fine."

"Okay Sam. Good luck. And be careful, please?"

"I will. Have a fun trip with your boyfriend."

"Thanks Sam. I hope you and your brother can work things out."

"I doubt that will happen, but thanks," Sam said sadly.

Sam got out of Janet's car slowly then shut the door softly. He waved goodbye as Janet pulled away from the curb. He shuffled down the sidewalk, wincing at the pain he felt all through his body. He pulled his jacket tighter around himself to try and hold out the biting wind. He would need to find another ride soon. He still felt like he needed to put more distance between himself and Dean.

Janet watched Sam as she pulled away. She saw him wince and wrap his arm around his side. She hated leaving him but Karl was waiting for her. She prayed that the kind young man would be okay. She had never in her life seen such sadness in someone's eyes. He seemed so lost and confused. She hoped he could patch things up with his brother. She could see the love he had for him, but also the tremendous sorrow. Sam kept quiet about what had happened, but it had to be horrible to have put such pain in his eyes. She said a silent prayer that Sam would be kept safe and that he and his brother would find each other again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks to everyone reading this story. I really didn't expect the wonderful response. Here is the next chapter and there may be another one later.**

**Cindy.**

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Dean had been driving around for hours desperately searching for Sam. He had checked parks, the library, alleyways and back streets. He had scoured homeless shelters, clinics, and the hospital. He lost count of how many people he had shown his one and only picture of Sam to in the hopes that someone had seen him, had seen what direction he had gone. Nobody recognized Sam. It was like he had vanished into thin air. Dean was beyond frustrated, beyond panicked. He was nearly hysterical with worry. He had scared more than a few people that he had questioned with his intense stare and the barely contained rage in his voice.

Dean was running on adrenaline now, as the breakfast he had consumed early in the morning had burned off hours ago. He gave himself no more time for food. Time was not a luxury he had at his disposal. Sam was out there somewhere, hurt, cold and all alone. Dean had put him there, and if Sam was cold and hungry, then Dean didn't feel he deserved better than what Sam had. So he continued searching, pushing himself the way he knew Sam would if the roles were reversed.

Dean decided to check out the bus depot next. It was possible that Sam had some money in his pocket that hadn't been taken. At any rate, Dean wanted to cover all the bases before heading back to the motel to meet Bobby. Five minutes later he pulled up to the bus depot where he got out of his car and headed toward the ticket booth. He walked up to the booth where a middle aged woman was counting money.

"Excuse me. Have you seen this guy around here today?" Dean asked the woman, holding Sam's picture out for her.

The woman took the picture and studied it for a moment before shaking her head and handing it back to Dean. "Sorry, I haven't seen him."

"Thanks anyway," Dean said with disappointment, turning away. He stopped, turning back around. "If you see him, will you call me at this number?" he asked, writing his number on a slip of paper and pushing it toward the woman.

"Sure thing. So, who is this kid anyway?" the woman inquired.

"He's my kid brother, and he's missing," Dean replied.

"Well, I hope you find him."

"So do I. Thanks for your help."

The woman nodded and went back to her counting. Dean turned and walked from the depot, scanning the area before heading back to the impala. He headed back to the motel, expecting Bobby to show up at any time. Sure enough, when he pulled into the parking lot he saw Bobby's beat up pickup sitting in front of his room. He pulled up alongside Bobby and got out of the car, Bobby following suit.

"Hey Bobby," Dean said as he gave Bobby a nod.

"Dean," Bobby answered.

Dean unlocked the door to his room and entered, followed closely by Bobby. He immediately sank down onto his bed, rubbing his hand over his face then up through his hair.

Bobby looked at the younger hunter with concern. Dean looked like crap and Bobby figured he had been looking for Sam all day. "So, has anyone seen Sam?" he asked the exhausted looking man.

"Nobody. Not one damn person has seen him. It's like he just walked off the face of the earth. Either he found a way out of this town, or he's d...something else happened to him," Dean said softly, his voice hitching.

"He's not dead Dean. You have to believe that. I'm sure he's just found a place to hang low for awhile, or he hitched a ride somewhere," Bobby soothed, wanting to comfort the young man who he had come to think of as his own. He felt the same way about Sam, and he felt that his 'family' was crumbling, Sam being the glue that held it all together. He was as scared as Dean, but he didn't have the added guilt weighing on his shoulders.

"Bobby, if he did catch a ride he could be anywhere. How are we going to find him?" Dean asked with desperation.

"Like I said before, Ash will call if..."

"If he sees demon signs! Yeah, I know. But that may be too late Bobby! What if Sam is too far away for us to get there in time? We have to find him before that happens," Dean shouted as he jumped up from the bed and began pacing.

"Maybe he'll call once he calms down and has had time to think," Bobby reasoned.

"He's not going to call me Bobby. I told him I hated him and that I wanted to kill him. Would you call me?"

"Sam loves you Dean, no matter what. I can't see him not calling eventually."

"Eventually will be too late Bobby!"

"Dean, we'll find Sam."

"I wish I could be so sure Bobby."

"Look, get some rest and we'll hit it again. I'll go grab us something to eat while you sleep."

"No way! I'm not wasting any time eating and sleeping."

"Dean, you're no good to Sam if you collapse. Get some rest and when you wake up we'll eat and then hit the streets."

"Bobby, I just can't help imagining Sam out there cold, hungry, hurt and alone. Why should I have the luxury of sleep and food if he's probably going without?"

"Because you need both to stay strong. For Sam."

"Right. Well, I'll sleep, but only for a few hours. And I'll eat, but in the car."

"That works for me. Now get some rest and I'll wake you in a few hours."

"No more than two hours Bobby. Promise me."

"I promise. I'll do some checking around while I'm out. We'll find him Dean."

"We better Bobby. We have to."

Bobby nodded, then slipped out the door. Dean continued pacing for a few minutes, then collapsed onto the bed and fell into a fitful sleep.

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Sam walked for what seemed like hours. The wind had picked up and the previously cold air had turned bitter. He had tried to find another ride but had no luck. His mission now was to find someplace to get out of the weather. Snow had started to fall, and the wind whipped the flakes at Sam, stinging his bare face. He had no hat or gloves and knew he needed to find some sort of shelter before he got frostbite.

Sam finally found an abandoned house, the windows boarded up and a padlock on the gate. He scaled the chainlink fence and found a loose board on a basement window, which he pulled off the window frame with his numb fingers. He pushed the cracked window open and squeezed through the barely big enough opening, falling to the basement floor with a loud thud. He grabbed his already sore ribs and lay on the cold cement floor, slightly rocking from side to side. When the pain that had erupted in his ribs from the drop to the floor subsided, he pushed himself up and began searching for the stairs that would lead him up to the street level of the house.

He quickly found the stairs and carefully made his way up, testing each step before putting his full weight on them. When he reached the top of the stairs, he pushed open the door and entered into what used to be the kitchen. All of the appliances were gone and the only thing that remained other than garbage was one lone kitchen chair. The smell of rotten garbage invaded Sam's nose, and he had to put his hand over it to try and block out some of the odor. He could hear scratching and scuttling noises and hoped it was mice and not rats. He really hated rats.

He shuffled across the garbage strewn room and through another door into what he guessed was the livingroom. It wasn't much cleaner than the kitchen, but it didn't smell quite as bad. Although it was fairly light outside, the boarded up windows gave the appearance of nighttime in the small room.

Sam was able to make out the shape of a couch against the far, white wall and carefully made his way over to it. It was broken down and smelled bad, but Sam was exhausted and it was definitely better than the floor, so he slowly lowered himself down onto the sagging cushions. He pulled his coat tightly around his body and curled himself into a ball, trying to conserve as much warmth as possible. It was cold in the house, but not as cold as it was outside. He lowered his head into the crook of his arm and slowly drifted off into an exhausted sleep. It wasn't long before he began to moan and whimper, his face scrunched, looking anything but peaceful.

_"Run Sam! Run! Save yourself!" the voices screamed in unison. Sam was once again in the fog covered clearing, trying desperately to find the origin of the voices. He jerked his head left to right, but the voices seemed to be coming from every direction. There were both men's and women's voices and they all shared the same panic filled tones. They were telling him to run, but he couldn't move. Suddenly he was in the empty room again, pressed against the wall, his arms outstretched from his sides, his palms facing outward._

The dark figure appeared again if front of him, his red eyes glowing maliciously.

"You are the saint Samuel, and you must die as the One did," it hissed, it's evil breath turning Sam's stomach.

A spike flew from nowhere and impaled Sam's right hand to the wall. Another one followed and impaled his left hand. Sam screamed, and this time the scream filled his head, it was so deafening. The red eyed man pushed the ring of thorns over Sam's head, tearing skin as the sharp thorns dug in. Sam's screaming stopped and was replaced with quick gasps. The man tore Sam's shirt from his body and the spear pierced his side. A scream was ripped from Sam's throat and he kept screaming and screaming....

Sam jerked awake, sweating and panting, bile rising up in his throat. He swallowed it down and pulled his hands up to his face. He could swear he saw dark spots in the center of his palms. He reached one shaking hand up to his forehead and felt a warm stickiness. His side was on fire and he could feel wetness there also. He wrapped his arms tightly around his body, shivering uncontrollably. "What's happening to me?" he wondered through a pain filled haze.

He squeezed his eyes shut, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself. Dean had always been able to calm him down no matter how upset or hurt he was. But Dean wasn't here.

"I'm so sorry Dean. Please, I need you. Please Dean, please forgive me," he whispered softly before falling back into a fitful sleep.

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**There it is. Things definitely are not looking good for Sam, the poor guy. At least he's out of the wind. Well, please let me know what you think.**

**Cindy**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry, I meant to post this earlier but I've been having a bit of trouble with my internet connection. Anyway, no Sam in this one, but we'll get back to him in the next chapter. I hope you like this one.**

**Cindy.**

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Dean awoke with a jerk, the sensation of pressure on his shoulder pushing him into full alert mode. He came up swinging, his fist hitting air.

"Whoa there tiger!" a gruff voice exclaimed.

Dean focused his eyes and soon Bobby's grizzled face come into view.

"Sorry Bobby," Dean murmured. "How long have I been sleeping?"

"Two hours, as requested," Bobby replied, a slight grin on his face.

"Thanks Bobby. Now, let's get moving," Dean said, pulling himself up from the bed.

"I checked out the area you found Sam's stuff at and I think we should check out the bar down the street. Odds are, whoever jumped Sam came from or was going to the bar," Bobby stated, watching Dean pull on his boots.

"Yeah. That's where Sam and I were shooting pool the night this all started," Dean replied, sadness creeping into his eyes.

Bobby lowered his eyes, giving Dean his moment in private. They had to find Sam, he thought, because if they didn't Dean would never make it. The guilt would eat him up inside if they were too late in their quest. If he lasted long enough for guilt to kill him. Even though Dean knew it was a demon who made him say and do the things he did, he would still blame himself for not having the strength to stop it. No amount of reasoning would help. If something happened to Sam, Dean would slowly die, if he didn't hurry the process along himself.

"Uh...we should get going," the older hunter said, glancing up at Dean.

"I'm ready," Dean replied as he pulled on his jacket. He grabbed his keys and headed to the door. Bobby got up from the chair he had plopped into and followed Dean out the door. They both climbed into the Impala and Dean started the car, the loud rumble vibrating through the frame. Bobby reached into his pocket and pulled out a wrapped sandwich, then handed it to Dean.

"Here, eat," Bobby said, flashing an authoritative glare at Dean.

"No thanks, I'm not hungry," Dean replied, ignoring the offered sandwich.

"The deal was two hours of sleep and you would eat in the car. Well, we're in the car. Now eat!" Bobby demanded, once again pushing the sandwich toward Dean.

Dean glanced at Bobby and decided it would be best to just eat the sandwich. The Winchesters weren't the only stubborn asses in the hunting community. Bobby was right up there with them and Dean could see he wasn't going to take no for an answer. He reached over and took the sandwich, nodding his thank you. Bobby nodded back, then turned his eyes forward and stared out through the windshield. Dean unwrapped the sandwich, then put the car in gear and drove out of the parking lot.

Five minutes later they pulled up across the street from the bar. Dean pushed the last biteful of sandwich into his mouth, thankful to Bobby as he hadn't been aware of how hungry he was. The bar looked pretty busy for the hour. Both Dean and Bobby got out of the car and trotted across the street. They entered through the front door and were immediately assaulted by the thick, smoky air. They found a table in the center of the room that gave them a good vantage point of the entire bar.

Dean walked up to the bar to order a pitcher. As he waited, someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned his head and recognized the man as the asshole from the other night who had dared to touch Sam.

"Hey! I remember you," the man slurred, already two sheets to the wind.

"Yeah? Well then you know to get out of my face!" Dean snarled, pulling his shoulder away from the man.

"Hey, hey! Just making small talk here. It's like I told your boyfriend the other night..." the man started.

Dean grabbed the man by his jacket, pulling him up face to face. "What do you mean?" Dean hissed.

"You know, your pretty little friend who hustled me outa my money," the man replied, trying to pull free from Dean's grip.

"That was my brother and he didn't hustle you. He was just better than you!" Dean shot out, pulling the man closer. "When did you see him?"

"Uh, last night. We had a real nice talk," the man quipped, a sly grin spreading across his face. "He didn't say much, but we still had a real good time!"

The man began to cackle and Dean just about lost it. He was pulling back to punch the asshole but a strong hand grabbed his arm, stopping it before it could do any damage.

"Dean, not in here," came Bobby's raspy whisper. "We can't afford for you to be in jail."

Dean relented and allowed Bobby to pull him from the bar, but as he backed away, the man reached up to straighten his jacket collar, his sleeve pulling up his arm. That's when Dean saw Sam's watch around the man's wrist. He jerked away from Bobby and lunged at the man, plowing into him with the force of a grizzly bear. The man let out a startled "Hrmph!" as Dean hit him, knocking the wind from him. They fell to the floor and Dean would have destroyed the man if several sets of arms hadn't pulled him off of him.

Dean screamed with rage, "Let Me Go!"

Bobby held him around the chest and the bartender pushed in front of Dean.

"Dude, look. I want to kick that dick's ass most of the time myself, but seriously, he's not worth going to jail for," the bartender whispered. "If you keep this up, I gotta call the cops. But if you leave and something happens to ole Jake once he leaves, I'm really not gonna remember your face. And no one else in here will either."

Dean looked at the bartender and nodded his understanding, shooting daggers at the man as he was pulled up from the floor. The man flinched at the fury he saw in Dean's eyes. The bartender leaned in closer and whispered, "Watch out for his nephews. They're usually with him and they're huge."

"Thanks," Dean rasped, then turned and followed Bobby out the door. As if on cue, the back door opened and two very large men walked in, glancing around in confusion at the full, but quiet bar.

Once Bobby and Dean reached the Impala, Bobby grabbed Dean's arm and turned him around to face him.

"What the hell was that Dean?" he inquired.

"He's the one who hurt Sam. He and probably his asshole nephews!" Dean spat.

"How do you know that?" Bobby asked, searching Dean's eyes.

"He pretty much said so. Oh yeah, and he was wearing Sam's watch!" Dean seethed.

"Son of a bitch!" Bobby growled, turning his eyes back to the bar.

"I'm gonna rip that old fucker to shreds Bobby!" Dean cried, his body trembling.

"We'll take care of him Dean. Let's just be smart about it. We'll wait for him to come out, and we'll take back what he took from Sam."

"The barkeep says he has two huge nephews that will probably be with him. I'm sure they were there last night because that little fuck couldn't take Sam on his own," Dean spat, pacing beside the Impala.

"Then we'll take care of them too!" Bobby said, walking to the passenger door.

"We'll need to cover the back too," Dean said, looking at Bobby.

"Where do you want to be?" Bobby asked.

"I'll take the car to the back. Will you be okay out here?"

"A little cold ain't gonna bother me. Turn your phone on vibrate. Whoever sees them calls the other."

"Sounds good Bobby. Be careful."

"You too Dean. We do this quick and clean," Bobby instructed.

"You got that Bobby. For Sam."

"For Sam."

Dean got into the Impala and pulled down the street turning the corner before heading down the alley to park behind the bar. Bobby stepped back into the entryway of a small store, the shadows hiding him from view. There they both waited for the doomed men to exit the bar. Dean glared at the back door, willing it to open so he could kick some ass. He couldn't wait to get his hands on the man. He was going to deeply regret the day he touched Sam. The man and possibly his nephews were soon to be in a world of hurt.

One hour later Dean was getting antsy. There had been comers and goers but still the man hadn't left the bar. Dean was running out of patience and was very close to just going in and dragging the asshole out of the bar. He fidgeted in his seat, no longer able to sit still. The back door opened and Dean was finally rewarded when the man, followed by two large men, sauntered out into the alleyway. Dean grabbed his phone, dialing Bobby.

"They're coming out. Hurry Bobby!" Dean hissed into the phone.

"I'm on my way!" Bobby answered, hurrying across the street and around the building. He scooted alongside the building and peeked around the corner. The three men were nearing the Impala, their backs to Bobby. He crept from beside the building and quietly stole up behind them.

As the men approached the Impala, Dean creaked the door open and stepped out of the car.

"Gentlemen, nice to see you," Dean said, his lips curled into a menacing sneer.

"Well, what do you know! It's mister tough guy," the man snarled. "You better run along little boy before you get hurt."

Dean grinned, his eyes flashing. "Oh, I think I'll stick around for this. You have something that doesn't belong to you and I intend to take it back."

"You and what army?" the man hissed, a sneer on his face.

Dean winked at Bobby then looked at the man. "What army? Me, myself, and Bobby!" he shouted as he suddenly swung his fist, striking one of the large men square in the jaw.

The man crumpled to the ground, a startled look on his face. At the same time, Bobby kicked the other nephew's legs out from under him and he fell, cracking his head on the concrete. Before the older man could react, Dean grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the car. Bobby kept his eye on the two fallen men.

"What did you do to my brother?" Dean hissed, the fury making his voice shake.

"I told you, we talked and I took back what he stole from me," the man replied glibbly.

"You and your deformed partners there beat the crap out of him asshole. Now, tell me what else you did to him," Dean said, grabbing the man by the throat.

"Okay, okay! We beat him up. I wanted my money back. The kid barely put up a fight. He wouldn't even fight back."

"What did you do with him after you beat him up? And what else did you take from him dickhead?"

"We didn't do anything else. We just beat him up and I took my money. We left him laying in the alley."

Dean slugged the man in the stomach, doubling him over. "Wrong answer asshole!"

"I swear! Just the money!" the man gasped.

The next punch was to the jaw. "Try again!"

"Okay, I took his watch. Here! Take it back!" The man held out his arm and Dean snatched the watch from his wrist.

"What else!"

"That's it!"

"Let's see. Nope, I don't believe you!" Dean said, kicking the man in the ribs. He dug his hands into the man's pockets and felt a round metal object. He pulled it out and held it in his palm, his breath hitching in his throat.

"You little fuck! You took his ring!?" Dean seethed, staring at the ring. He grabbed the man by the hair and jerked his head up. "This ring was given to my brother by his girlfriend who was murdered, and you took it from him. I should slit your filthy throat!"

"Please, I didn't know! I'm sorry. Don't hurt me anymore," the man sobbed.

"What did you do to Sam after you beat him?"

"I told you! Nothing. I swear! We left him there. He was hurting, but he was alive. We just left him..." the man cried.

Dean heard a scuffle and looked toward Bobby, who was wrestling with one of the giants. Dean pushed the man's head down and went to help Bobby. He grabbed the man's arm and pulled him up from Bobby. As the man was pulled up, something fell from inside his coat. Dean glanced down and bristled at what he saw.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean screamed, ramming his knee into the man's stomach. The man dropped like a box of rocks to the ground, wheezing and gagging. "You took his knife? You motherfucker! I'm going to kill you!"

Dean grabbed the downed man's hair and drove his fist into his face. He punched again and again before Bobby grabbed him around the chest and pulled him back.

"Dean! They're not worth it. Let's get out of here," Bobby yelled.

"He doesn't have anything Bobby. Nothing, not even his knife. How's he supposed to protect himself? He's out there somewhere, all alone with no money or protection. And did you hear that dick? Sam didn't even fight back Bobby. What did I do to him...?" Dean cried.

"Not you Dean. The demon," Bobby stated, pushing Dean into the passenger seat of the Impala before climbing into the drivers seat. Dean didn't even struggle against him. He just shrunk into the seat in shock.

"If he wouldn't fight back with those bozo's, why would he fight back with the demon? He may just let it kill him," Dean whispered, turning panicked eyes at Bobby.

"He'll fight Dean, and we'll find him. We will."

"How Bobby? Ash hasn't seen anything yet and we have no way of tracking him. He could be anywhere by now. Where do we look?"

"I don't know Dean. I'm sorry, I just don't know."

Bobby started the car and drove out of the alley, leaving three broken and bloodied men behind.

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**So, was Dean and Bobby too easy on those jerks? I think they were too easy on them, but we don't want our guys in jail so I decided to let the assholes live. I hope you all enjoyed that chatper and would really appreciate hearing from you. Take care. More tomorrow.**

**Cindy**


	10. Chapter 10

**Well, here is the next chapter. This one is all Sam. I'll probably post another one later as I am always more generous on the weekends (and have more time) lol!! Here goes.**

**Cindy**

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Sam awoke to his head throbbing and he was shivering from the cold. Thankfully he hadn't had another nightmare. He lifted his hands up to his face and saw no sign of the blood spots he had seen earlier. He felt his head and there was no blood there either. 'I'm going crazy,' he thought ruefully. The vividness of the dreams, the phantom pain and blood upon waking. He was beginning to wonder if he was actually having visions of his own death. His death at the hands of a demon, but not the yellow eyed demon. A different demon with red eyes. But why? Why target him? Sam pushed it from his mind, his head hurting too bad to think about it right now.

He felt like crap. Not only was he still in pain from the beating he took, but now the headache and a sore throat were added to the mix. And he couldn't forget the cold. His stomach continued to remind him that it had been several hours since he last ate and his dry mouth screamed for water. Sam slowly rose from the couch, his muscles protesting the move. He began to search the various pockets of his jacket, hoping to find a forgotten morsel he could eat. In the last pocket his fingers touched something and he closed them around it and pulled it out. "Please, please, please," he prayed as he looked down. He had to move his fingers up to his eyes to see what he held. His heart leapt as his prayers were answered. He had never been so happy to see a ten dollar bill as he was at that moment. Finally, something was going his way.

Sam gingerly made his way across the room and entered the filthy kitchen. He looked to the door that led to the basement but decided he would never be able to hoist himself up to and through the basement window in his current condition. He searched for a back door and was rewarded when he went into a narrow hall. The door was boarded up, but with a few good kicks, he was able to partially dislodge the board from the doorframe. He squeezed through the opening then placed the board back into place. He was out of breath and his ribs were screaming for him to lie down. He bent over at the waist as he leaned against the back porch wall and took several deep breaths. His head felt like it was ready to explode and his throat felt like he had swallowed razor blades.

"Great, now I'm sick?" he hissed incredulously to himself.

He didn't want to go out into the cold, but he needed food and water. And aspirin. He remembered a convenience store a ways down from the abandoned house, so he stepped off the back porch into the cold night air. The wind had died down, so it wasn't as cold as when he had come to the house. He headed in the direction he had come, at least he hoped it was the right direction. If he remembered right, the store was about seven blocks from the house. He prayed that it was a 24 hour store. He trudged through the blanket of snow that the earlier storm had laid down, soon realizing he needed new shoes. There was obviously a hole somewhere in his right shoe because his foot was steadily being soaked.

"Shit! What next?" he muttered as he trudged along.

Sam finally came to the store just about the time he feared he had gone the wrong way. "Thank God," he silently said when he saw the store was open. He pushed through the glass doors and the warmth of the air made his ears, nose and cheeks start to tingle. He went to the coolers and began to peruse the deli section. He chose a turkey and cheese sandwich and a microwaveable burrito. He then found the drink cooler and pulled out two small bottles of water. He walked to the counter and put his selections down. He pulled four single dose aspirin packets from a display board on the counter and tossed them in with his other items.

"That'll be $6.24 please," the young store clerk said after ringing up Sam's items.

Sam handed over the ten dollars and waited for his change. The clerk counted out his change into his hand and went back to reading his magazine. Sam walked to the microwave and popped the burrito into it and set the timer. As the burrito heated up, Sam ripped two of the aspirin packets open and popped the pills into his mouth then washed them down with some water. The bell dinged on the microwave so Sam pulled the burrito out and took it and his other purchases to the small table set in a corner at the back of the store.

The bell above the door to the store pealed, announcing the arrival of a new customer. Sam barely noticed the sound as he was intent on opening the burrito. He immediately started to stuff the burrito into his mouth, desperate to fill his stomach. As he was shoving the last bite in, he noticed movement to his left. He glanced in that direction and nearly choked when he saw a familiar man eyeing the snack cakes. His hands began to shake and he broke out in a cold sweat. He slowly swallowed the last bite of food, watching the man out of the corner of his eye.

Sam slowly got up from the table and stuffed the sandwich, aspirin and water into his pockets. As he turned to leave the table he came face to face with the new customer. It was the man from Sam's nightmare. For a moment he couldn't breathe and he stood there frozen, staring at the man. The man gave him a curious smile, then made his way down the aisle toward the front counter. Sam watched as he approached the counter and placed his items there. The clerk came to the counter and smiled as he began to ring up the purchases.

"On your way to work Mr. Daly?" the clerk asked, clearly speaking to a regular.

"Yeah. I really hate these nightshifts, but I get paid extra for working them so I really have no choice," the man replied, his voice, the voice from Sam's dream, making Sam nauseous. Sam waited until the man left then watched out the window to see what direction he went. The man climbed into an old VW Rabbit and pulled out of the parking lot, heading east. Sam gave a relieved sigh, grateful the man was going in the opposite direction that he would be heading. His legs were shaking so he once again sat at the table, trying to determine what to do next.

Sam was pretty certain now that his dream was in fact a vision. He was in shock as he had never had a vision about himself before and he was scared shitless. He knew he couldn't fight this demon alone. He had no weapons and his father's journal was with Dean, so he had no exorcisms at hand. He had a few memorized but didn't know if they would work. He thought that he should try to find a ride out of town, but he knew once he had a demon hunting him there was no place safe to run to. It would eventually find him, and as much as he really didn't care what happened to him, he definitely didn't want to die at the hands of a demon. And he certainly didn't want to die the way he did in his vision.

Sam sat for a few more minutes before deciding what to do. He stood up from the table and walked down the aisle, grabbing one more item to purchase. He walked up to the counter and sat the item down. The clerk looked at the item then glanced at Sam, his eyebrow raised. Sam shrugged and flashed a small grin.

"I really like salt," he said as he paid for the bag of salt.

Sam took his remaining change and walked to the payphone near the back of the store. He lifted the receiver and deposited his coins into the coin slot. He dialed a number and waited for the line to be picked up. When the call was answered, he whispered breathlessly,

"I need help...."

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**That's it for now. Now that Sam knows he's been having visions, I wonder what he'll do. Guess we'll find out. More later.**

**Cindy.**


	11. Chapter 11

**It's bonus chapter time. I hope you all enjoy it.**

**Cindy.**

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_"I need help..."_

"Sam? Is that you?" Bobby cried, jumping up from the chair he occupied and motioning to Dean. Dean was by Bobby's side in an instant, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. There was relief that Sam was alive but fear for what lay ahead.

"Bobby, something is after me. It's a demon and I don't...I don't know what to do!" Sam spit out hoarsely.

"Slow down Sam. Are you okay?" Bobby asked, holding the phone at an angle so Dean could listen in.

"I'm okay. I just...I can't fight it by myself. De..." Sam started, but couldn't finish the sentence as it was still too painful.

Upon hearing the pain in his little brother's voice, Dean's eyes welled with tears and try as he might, he couldn't keep the tears from falling. Sam sounded scared and hurt and Dean couldn't do anything or say anything for fear Sam would hang up. So Dean shed silent tears and reserved himself to just listen to the conversation.

"Sam, what's happening to make you think you're in danger?" Bobby questioned, wanting to get as much info as possible to determine how much time they had.

"I'm having visions...uh, visions of me dying. A demon...he, uh...he crucifies me," Sam whispered, the fear thick in his voice.

"I'm sorry? Crucifies?" Bobby asked, his hands shaking. He glanced at Dean who had paled considerably.

"Uh...yeah. I'm pinned to the wall, my hands impaled with spikes...uh, crown of thorns, spear piercing my side. He spoke to me...he...*cough*...he said I'm the saint and that I have to die as Jesus did." Sam's voice hitched and he suddenly broke into a coughing fit.

Dean turned alarmed eyes to Bobby, who was afraid Dean was going to pass out.

"Sam? Son, are you okay?" Bobby asked, his voice laced with concern.

"I guess I'm a...*cough*...little sick," Sam choked, another coughing fit striking. "I think it's just a cold."

"Are you sure? You don't sound too good Sam."

"I'm fine Bobby. I'm not concerned...*cough*...with a little cold."

"Okay Sam. So, when did the visions start?"

"Um...yesterday. I think. I've kinda lost track of time."

"Well, you should be okay for a while. At least until I can get there."

"I saw him Bobby. I saw the man from my vision," Sam said fearfully.

"You saw him? When?" Bobby asked, a knot of fear forming in his stomach.

"Tonight. I found some money in my jacket and came to the small store I saw to get some food and water. He came into the store."

"Was he already possessed? Did he say anything to you? Is he still there?" Bobby rushed through the questions at breakneck speed, panic fueling his words.

"He was looking at snackcakes. Then I came face to face with him. He looked...*cough*...right at me, then went and paid for his stuff and left. I don't know if he was possessed yet. I don't think so, but I don't know."

"Okay, he may not be possessed yet. Can you get somewhere safe? A church maybe?"

"I didn't see any church. I've been holed up in an...*cough*...in an abandoned house down the street from...*cough*...from the store. I've got some salt," Sam whispered, exhaustion starting to seep into his body.

"Okay, that's good. Go there as quick as you can and lay a salt line as best you can.'

"Bobby?"

"Yeah Sam? What is it?"

"Dean's gone." Sam's voice filled with sadness and it tore at Dean's heart.

"What happened Sam?" Bobby asked, his heart breaking for the young man.

"He...He sent me away. He said he...*cough*...he said he hated me. Not that I blame him. I mean, I hate myself for ruining my family. He was right to wish I had never been born. So many people would still be alive today if it weren't for me. Dean wo...*cough*...would have a normal life. I don't know if I want to live anymore Bobby, but I don't want to die at the hands of a demon. I...I should just end it myself," Sam said barely above a whisper. The despair in his voice was heartbreaking.

Bobby looked at Dean who wore a look of shock and sheer panic. His brother was talking suicide. Dean felt like he would hyperventilate so he sat on the edge of his bed and placed his head between his knees, willing himself to calm down.

"Bobby? Are you there?" Sam asked with a hint of panic.

"Oh, sorry Sam. You kinda threw me for a loop there. Now you listen to me. I'm sure Dean didn't mean what he said. That boy loves you more than life Sam. Is it possible that maybe your demon could have made him say those things?" Bobby asked.

"I...I never thought of that. Do you think that's it Bobby? Do you think he could have been possessed?" Sam asked, hope and fear mixed in his voice.

"I think it's more probable than Dean hating you," Bobby answered.

"He tried to kill me Bobby. He tried to smother me, but then he stopped himself," Sam said sadly.

"Well, that's it right there Sam. Why would Dean lay his life on the line so many times to protect you and then just out of the blue try to kill you?"

Dean rose quickly from the bed, all color draining from his face. He placed his ear to the phone again, hanging on Sam's words.

"I don't know. Maybe you're right Bobby. I just don't know. You didn't see him Bobby. I mean, his eyes. They were his eyes, but...*cough*...but there was so much hate and anger there. Maybe he was just following Dad's orders, like he said, and when Dad died, the hate he had just festered until he couldn't contain it anymore." Sam sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

Dean shook his head, lowering his eyes to the floor. 'No Sammy, I could never hate you. You have to believe that,' Dean thought to himself, wishing he could tell Sam, but the danger of him hanging up was too great.

"Dean loves you Sam, you have to believe that. He'd die for you, of that I'm certain. Just like I'm certain you would die for him. Now, we'll take care of your demon problem and then you and Dean will work this out."

"You can't call him Bobby! Please don't call him. You promise me Bobby! I'll take off, I swear. I'll take my chances with the demon!" Sam spat desperately before breaking into another coughing fit.

"Okay Sam, calm down. I promise. I won't call Dean. Now please, tell me where you are so I can come get you."

"Uh, I'm in Colorado Springs. The store is called ...*cough*...it's Alameda Street Sundries. I'm about seven blocks west of here in an abandoned house. It's white and surrounded by a chainlink fence," Sam instructed, hope starting to rise in his heart.

"I can be there in under 8 hours Sam. You go and lay a salt barrier and then stay put. I'll get there as soon as I can. And Sam, about what you said earlier. You said you should just end it yourself. Now, if that means what I think it does and you're talking about killing yourself, well you just better not break my heart like that. You'll destroy Dean. I know you think what he said is true, but it isn't. Dean loves you and doesn't blame you for anything. I'd stake my life on it. You be strong Sam, please," Bobby begged, Sam's earlier statement still heavy in his heart.

"Okay Bobby. I'm sorry. I'll be strong. Please, just get here. I better go now, it's starting to snow again," Sam said weakly.

"Okay Sam. You take care and I'll see you soon."

"Thanks Bobby" Sam said, then hung up the phone. He picked up his small bag of salt and left the store, hunching his shoulders against the cold and snow.

Bobby closed his phone and looked at Dean.

"Shit Bobby!" Dean exclaimed. "He sounds like crap. And Colorado Springs? That's so friggin far!"

"Just get your stuff together and we'll hit the road. Dean, we know where he is now. Everything is going to be okay," Bobby said as he started gathering things together for their trip to Colorado.

"But he saw the guy! He's alone and hurt, and now he's sick. He sounds so...so lost Bobby. And scared. I've never heard him that scared before," Dean cried, stuffing the last of his clothes in his duffel.

"He knows help is on the way, and I'm sure if we take the Impala, and with you driving, we can cut some time off that 8 hours," Bobby stated.

"Oh, you bet your ass it ain't gonna take 8 hours. This is Sam we're talking about here. We have to get there fast. I'm making it in 6."

Dean grabbed the rest of his stuff from the bathroom and headed for the door, Bobby following close behind. Once they had moved Bobby's car to a safer location and locked it up, they were on the road. They were in 'Save Sammy' mode and nothing was going to keep them from their task.

Bobby put in a call to Ash who informed him that the demon signs were starting in Colorado Springs. Based on the other cases, they figured they had 8 to 10 hours to get to Sam and prepare to send the demon back to hell. Bobby asked Ash to look up the location Sam had given him so they would know what exit to take once they reached their destination, and exactly how to get to where Sam was. Bobby closed his phone and waited for Ash to call back.

Dean held a death grip on the steering wheel. He kept replaying the phone conversation in his mind. Sam was afraid of him, that was certain. Dean didn't know if Bobby's explanation to Sam had quelled any of that fear or not, but he hoped it had. At this moment his biggest fear was Sam's remark about ending it himself. Both he and Bobby had taken this to mean Sam was contemplating killing himself. The sheer terror this aroused in Dean left him feeling sick. His heart raced in his chest and he knew he had to calm down before he passed out or something.

The pain and sadness Dean heard from his little brother shook him to the core. He realized he hadn't actually said the words himself or hurt Sam himself, but Sam didn't know that. Even with Bobby's words to the contrary, in Sam's present state of mind it would be hard to convince him that it wasn't Dean's words or actions, but that of the demons. Dean wished he could pull a genie act and blink his eyes and be in Colorado. Every minute that ticked by reminded Dean that Sam was alone with a demon hunting him. A demon intent on torturing and murdering him.

Dean's mind wandered to the vision as Sam had relayed it to Bobby. If the demon followed the dream, then Sam was going to be crucified. The thought sent a shudder through Dean. He couldn't help but picture Sam nailed to the wall, blood trickling down his face from the thorny crown around his head. He saw clearly the blood pouring from Sam's side and running down his leg. He saw the light leave Sam's eyes before they closed for the last time. Dean shook himself from the thoughts in his head and pushed his foot harder down on the gas pedal. His Sammy needed him and there was no way he could allow himself to fail.

"I'm coming Sammy," Dean whispered to the night.

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**So, what do you think? Please let me know. Reviews are love.**

**Cindy.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Here is the next chapter for you all. I hope you like it.**

**Cindy.**

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Sam trekked through the heavily falling snow, his head bowed down against the wind. He pulled his collar tight against his neck to keep the snow from going down his back. The aspirin had started to take affect and his once thundering headache had eased to a dull throb. His throat however was another story. He could barely swallow and whenever he coughed it felt like a blowtorch firing in his throat. But despite the pain, Sam did feel better. He had something now that he didn't have a short time ago. He had hope. Bobby was on his way to help him. His fate as foretold in his vision was not set in stone.

Sam's thoughts went to Dean. He had an ache in his heart whenever he thought of his big brother. He wished for Bobby's words to be true. Could it have been the demon who made Dean turn on him? As much as he hoped Bobby was right, Sam knew that Dean had every right to hate him and to wish he had never been born. If it weren't for him, Dean would still have Mom and Dad. He would have a normal life that didn't include risking his life day in and day out to keep his unworthy little brother safe. Sam truly felt he wasn't worthy of Dean's sacrifice. So, as much as he hoped for Bobby's words to be true that Dean did love him and did want him in his life, Sam was determined to make sure Dean was set free from his self imposed responsibility for him, one way or another.

If he made it out of this current situation alive, Sam vowed he would disappear, maybe to Canada or even Mexico. He would get odd jobs to make some money before moving on to some place else. He was used to the nomad way of life and felt confident he could keep Dean off his trail. The one major problem with this scenario was old yellow eyes. Being on his own would make him more vulnerable, but he would deal with that when the time came. His being apart from Dean would remove the danger of his brother being hurt again because of him and that was his number one priority. Whether Dean truly hated him or not made no difference. Sam loved Dean more than his own life and he would finally do the right thing and free Dean from his burden.

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**There you go. Please let me know what you think.**

**Cindy.**

When Sam finally looked up from his musings, he found he had passed his 'home' and had to back track a few blocks before coming to the abandoned house. He jumped the fence and went to the back yard. He climbed the porch steps and pulled the board from the doorframe enough so he could squeeze through. He entered the house and went immediately to the livingroom. Melted snow dripped from his soaked hair down the collar of his jacket and shirt adding to the already wet garments. He shivered not only from the cold but from the evenings events. Seeing the man from his vision had unnerved him more than he cared to admit.

Once he reached the couch, Sam began to shovel the debris and trash from around the couch with his feet. He needed to clear a path so he could lay a salt line. He didn't have enough salt to protect all the entrances to the house so the best he could do was erect a barrier around the couch then park himself there until Bobby arrived. He could only hope that the salt would hold the demon off. He fiercely wished he had his duffel bag because then he would have holy water also.

Once Sam finished the salt line, hoping it was complete but not sure due to the darkness, he collapsed onto the couch and rested his head back onto the dirty cushions. He felt feverish and knew getting soaked had not been the best thing for him at the moment. He lay down on the couch and tried his best to get warm, to no avail. He didn't think he would sleep, but when sleep finally did come, it was through pure exhaustion. Although he didn't dream of the demon or his death again, the dreams he did have were much worse. He saw a jumble of images from his past that caused him to whimper and cry out in his sleep.

He saw Jess pinned to the ceiling, blood dripping from her stomach then the flames consume her as he watched. He saw Dean and his father in the cabin, Dean bleeding as he was being ripped apart from the inside, his eyes pleading for the pain to stop. He saw his dad on the hospital room floor, then on the pyre, burning. Sam awoke panting and his throat was on fire. Sweat poured from his brow and dribbled down onto the couch, his wet hair clinging to his face. He curled into a ball and prayed silently for it to all be over. A single tear traced a path from the corner of his eye to his ear. He huddled closer into himself and prayed that Bobby would get there in time.

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**Across town-Norris Bros. Building Warehouse**

Jack Daly walked through the door that led to the outside break area at the warehouse where he worked the nightshift. He grumbled at the unfairness of a world that would force a man to have to go outside into this God awful weather just to grab a smoke. He supposed he should just quit and get his wife off his back, but damn it! He liked to smoke. Who's business was it but his own anyway? If he wanted to smoke, he would. It was his life after all and he worked hard so if he wanted to smoke then screw everybody else! He found a semi dry corner and lit up a cigarette, taking a puff and sighing in satisfaction.

Jack thought back to earlier in the evening and the strange young man he had encountered at the store where he always stopped to buy his Ding Dongs. The kid had bruises and cuts on his face and had looked like death warmed over. But what really got to him was the absolute fear in the kid's eyes. Jack didn't think he was all that scary to look at, but maybe he looked like whomever had beaten the kid. He shrugged his shoulders. It didn't really matter. He had never seen the kid before, and probably would never see him again. As he took the last puff from his cigarette, a blinding pain tore through his head. He dropped to his knees, gasping and clutching his head before all awareness left him. When he next arose from the ground, a blankness filled his eyes. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. He shuffled off the covered platform and headed for the parking lot. He found his VW and silently got into the car, then started the engine. He pulled out of the parking lot. He turned in the direction of Alameda Street and the small, white abandoned house where a young man waited for him. The saint. A smile curled his lips. By morning his task would be complete and all the psychics would be dead. His master would reward him greatly, and this only made his evil smile grow.


	13. Chapter 13

**Okay, here it is. The next chapter. Who will get to Sam first? Will he be saved? Can he be saved? Read on.....**

**Cindy.**

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The classic, sleek black car shot down the snowy highway at a breakneck speed. The driver wore a look of determination coupled with desperation. His knuckles were white as his hands gripped the steering wheel. His jaw clenched as troubling thoughts raced through his mind.

"Dean!" his passenger cried as he gripped the armrest of the passenger door. He turned his head to the driver when he received no response.

"DEAN!!" he shouted.

The driver turned slowly to the passenger, his eyes bright with fear and anger.

"Dean, we can't help Sam if we're being scraped off the highway. You need to slow down a bit."

"We have to get there Bobby! We're running out of time," Dean replied, turning back to stare out the windshield.

"We'll get there, but not if we go off the road Dean!"

Just as Dean was about to reply, the Impala began to fishtail in the wet slush. Dean fought to gain control of the car as Bobby held on for dear life, wishing he had put on his seatbelt. After what seemed like an eternity, the car finally straightened out. Bobby looked over at Dean, who cocked an eyebrow and gave him a crooked grin.

"Okay Bobby. You win," Dean said as he slowed the car, but just a little.

Once Bobby could breathe again he turned to Dean. "Dean, I know you feel responsible for the trouble we're in now, but it isn't your fault."

"You're damn right I feel responsible! I should have been stronger Bobby. I should have stopped it!"

"Shit Dean! You were possessed. What exactly were you supposed to do?"

"Fight it harder than I did Bobby! I should have fought harder for Sam," Dean cried, slamming his fist into his thigh.

"Dean! Sam would be dead if it weren't for you fighting. That demon would have had you smother him, but you fought your way out and stopped it," Bobby reminded Dean.

"Yeah, I guess. But I should have done more. Sammy's out there alone because I was weak Bobby. Plain and simple."

"Dean..."

"No Bobby! You didn't see his face. I remember it all. The look in his eyes. He was shattered. But the last thing he said was that he loved me. After what I said and did, he still said he loved me." Dean turned his head to hide the tears that threatened to fall.

"Dean, I can't say that I know how you should feel. I wasn't there. But I can tell you this. Even if you were to cut off Sam's arm, he would still love you. And I'm willing to bet that deep down he doesn't believe it was you saying and doing those things."

"If anything happens to him, I don't know what I'm gonna do. He sounded so lost and sick. Bobby, we have to get to him. He doesn't deserve this! When is he gonna catch a break? Huh? Why do all the evil freaks go after him?" Dean cried, shaking his head in frustration.

"We both know why Dean. His abilities make him a magnet for the supernatural. He's like a beacon that they're attracted to. And then there are the ones who want to use him, to take his power. Sam was born with this target and it's up to us to watch his back as best we can and keep him safe," Bobby replied with conviction.

"Real great job I've done so far!"

"Hey, cut yourself some slack Dean! You've saved him more times than I can count. Nobody's perfect. We will get to him, and we'll send that bastard demon back to hell!"

"Bobby, there's no room for error when it comes to Sam. With the neon target on his back, I should know better than to ever let my guard down. But I did Bobby, and look what happened."

"You both have to live a little, otherwise what's the point?"

"Yeah, well what difference does it make if we don't find him before the demon does?"

"We'll find him Dean. We have time."

"How much further?"

"We should bit Colorado Springs in...uh, an hour and a half," Bobby said, looking at his watch.

"Hold on Sammy. We're coming" Dean whispered to himself, pressing harder onto the accelerator.

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Jack Daly stood in the livingroom of the abandoned house watching Sam's restless slumber. He savored Sam's pain and despair. He smiled as Sam cried out in his sleep, the vision playing in his dreams again. Jack licked his lips in anticipation of what was to come. Jack approached the couch where Sam slept, stopping just outside the salt line. He glanced down at the barrier and let out a humorless laugh before stepping over the line. He took two steps and stood over Sam's huddled body. Despite the coldness of the room, sweat coated Sam's skin and dripped from his hair. Shivers quaked through his body from the fever he suffered. He would cough and then moan from the pain the coughs produced. Jack slowly shook his head and lowered himself down to his knees.

"Now Samuel," he whispered. "We can't have you dying before your appointed time. My master would be very displeased."

Jack reached out a hand and placed it on Sam's forehead. Almost instantly the shivering and coughing stopped and the fever broke. Sam's haggard breathing evened out and his pained face relaxed. Jack removed his hand from Sam's forehead, then gently ran his fingers down the side of Sam's face and neck. Sam flinched at the touch, gasping in his sleep, before quieting once again.

"Sleep now Samuel. Your time is almost upon you. It will be an honor taking your life."

Jack rose from the floor then turned and left the room. Soon he would finish his task and the final and most important psychic would be dead. The 'chosen one'. The boy that would be king. But there was only room for one king; his master. And that was how it was going to stay.

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**Well, that's it for now. I'm thinking I may have time to post another chapter later, after I fix dinner for the kids. I hope that's okay with you all. :)**

**Cindy.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Okay, I kind of promised an extra chapter tonight and here it is. I am blown away by all of your comments and just so appreciate the support I am getting for this story. I hope you enjoy the bonus chapter.**

**Cindy.**

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"What exit Bobby?" Dean inquired as they neared Colorado Springs.

"Second exit, then turn right. Turn left at Saxson, go about two miles then you'll hit Alameda, then left on Alameda. The store Sam mentioned is about one mile, then another seven blocks to the house according to Sam," Bobby replied after checking the laptop for directions.

The rest of the trip from where they nearly crashed had been silent with neither man talking until Dean asked for the exit. Dean had been deep in thought and Bobby hadn't wanted to intrude. He knew no matter how hard he tried to talk him out of it, Dean would still blame himself for the situation at hand. Dean, for his part had tried to reconcile in his mind that it wasn't his weakness that had kept him from preventing the events that led to Sam leaving. He couldn't do it. He had been weak except for the one time he had stopped himself from smothering Sam. He concluded that if he was able to stop himself then, he should have been able to the rest of the time. Everything that had happened to Sam from the moment Dean entered the motel room after retrieving his cell phone was on him, no matter what Bobby said.

Dean hoped once they found Sam and sent the demon that hunted him back to hell, that Sam would forgive him. But if Sam couldn't forgive him, he could live with that as long as Dean never saw the fear in Sam's eyes again. Dean could not live with Sam being afraid of him. His brother had enough to deal with and didn't need to add fearing Dean to his already heavy burden. Dean resolved to make things right between he and Sam no matter what it took or how long it took.

Dean slowed the Impala when he saw the sign for the exit he needed and guided the car down the off ramp. He followed Bobby's directions and ten minutes later had pulled to the curb across the street from the abandoned house. He and Bobby surveyed the house and surrounding area, neither one liking what they saw.

"Shit Bobby! Sammy's been alone in this neighborhood? Fuck!" Dean exclaimed as he took in the run down houses and graffiti covered walls and buildings. The abandoned house had graffiti and also yellow police tape stretched across the board that covered the front door. Bobby glanced at Dean, his concern mirrored in Dean's eyes.

"Let's get in there and find Sam," Bobby remarked as he pushed open the door and pulled himself out of the car.

Dean exited the car and locked the door then went to the back of the car and opened the trunk. He pulled several weapons from the trunk and shoved them into a duffel bag, making sure he had plenty of salt and holy water. He slammed the trunk shut then made his way to Bobby. They crossed the street, both mindful of their surroundings and any person or thing that could be lurking in the shadows.

"Fuck it's cold!" Dean exclaimed, pulling his collar tight around his neck. The idea of Sam being in this neighborhood, in this cold, without heat and in his current condition made Dean shudder. He quickened his pace and was over the chain link fence in a heartbeat. Bobby soon followed and when he was over the fence they continued to the back of the house.

"Sam said he partially removed the board from the back door. We can get in there," Bobby informed Dean as they reached the back corner of the house. Dean nodded and hurried to the back porch, taking the steps two at a time. He was already pulling the board off the doorframe when Bobby reached his side.

Dean pushed through the door and walked the short hallway before coming into the kitchen. He turned on his flashlight and waited for Bobby to catch up. Bobby walked up beside him, his own flashlight flitting around the garbage strewn room. Both men wrinkled their noses at the smell as they made their way through the room, heading for the doorway on the opposite wall.

They both went through the doorway and scanned the room with their lights, both beams simultaneously falling on the figure lying on the beaten down couch. Dean rushed forward, his brothers name on his lips, before a strong hand grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"Dean, you better let me go. We don't want to scare him. Just hang back until I talk to him okay?" Bobby whispered, waiting for Dean's reply.

Dean gazed at his brother, wanting only to get to him and let him know that he was going to be okay. But he nodded at Bobby, understanding the situation could go to hell if Sam woke up to Dean's face leaning over him. Bobby gave a quick bow of his head before walking across the room to the couch. Being careful not to the disturb the salt line Sam had laid and not realizing it was already broken, he knelt down beside the boy and placed his hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake.

"Sam, wake up. It's Bobby. Wake up for me son," Bobby said as he shook Sam a little more forcefully.

Sam was moaning in his sleep, most likely due to a nightmare and showed no sign of waking. Dean stood across the room, shuffling from foot to foot, his intense gaze never leaving his brother. It took all his willpower to keep from running over and grabbing his brother into his arms. He allowed Bobby to do what he should be doing himself, only because he didn't want to scare Sam. Bobby continued to shake Sam's shoulder in an attempt to wake him, but only got cries and moans in return. He turned his head and glanced at Dean, a concerned look in his eyes.

Without warning, Sam sat up from his prone position and nearly tumbled off the couch, Bobby barely being able to keep him off the floor. Sam gasped and pulled his hands up to his eyes, turning them over as if trying to see something there. He reached a trembling hand up to his head, feeling across his forehead while nursing his right side with his other hand. His eyes were wide and glassy, and he looked at Bobby but didn't appear to see him. His breath hitched as he held his side, then his chin dropped to his chest and a soft sob escaped his lips. Dean could only watch from his position across the room, his heart hammering in his chest, as Bobby gently took Sam by both arms and softly spoke to him.

"Sam, it's okay. It was just a dream. I'm here now. Sam, look at me. It's me, Bobby."

Sam flinched slightly then slowly raised his head. He brought his gaze up to meet Bobby's and soon recognition lit his eyes.

"Bobby? Is it really you?" Sam whispered, his voice hoarse. He reached his shaking hands up and grasped Bobby's forearms, his eyes pleading for it to be true.

"Yeah Sam. It's me, in the flesh. How are you doing?"

"I...I'm okay I guess. It really is you? You're not a dream?" Sam asked with fear in his voice.

"It really is me Sam. Now tell me son, how are you feeling? Can you tell me if you're hurt anywhere?"

Sam closed his eyes for a moment. His hands and side still hurt, but he knew that was from his vision. His head and throat still hurt, but not as bad as before, and his ribs still ached dully from the beating he had taken.

"Uh...my head hurts, and my ribs. But, I'm okay, really Bobby," he rasped, his gaze never leaving Bobby's face.

Bobby nodded his head then shone his light up toward Sam's face wanting to get a good look at him. As Sam's face was illuminated and the cuts and bruises became visible, a gasp was heard from across the room and both Sam and Bobby jerked their eyes in that direction. As Bobby turned, the beam of his flashlight caught Dean's face and before he could react, Sam let out a strangled cry and began to push himself backward on the couch. Bobby whipped around and grabbed Sam's arms, holding him in place.

"Sam! It's okay, he's not going to hurt you!" Bobby shouted, trying to get through to the terrified young man.

Dean started across the room but stopped abruptly when his light beam showed him the fear in Sam's eyes. He felt sick and held his hand out to Sam, trying to calm him down.

"It's okay Sammy. Please don't be afraid of me. I'm not going to hurt you, just like Bobby said," Dean cried, his eyes never leaving Sam's face.

Sam turned his gaze to Bobby, his eyes accusing. "You promised Bobby! You promised you wouldn't call him!" he cried, his voice pained and raspy.

"I know Sam! And I didn't call him, just like I promised," Bobby answered, trying to reason with Sam.

Sam tried to pull away, but his weakened state prevented him from moving. He shook his head then cried "Why is he here? If you didn't call him, then why is he here?!"

"I was already with him when you called Sam. We had been searching for you. You need to listen to me. Dean didn't do those things to you. He didn't say those things Sam. It was the demon, not Dean."

Sam looked at Dean, then back to Bobby. "What do you mean Bobby? It was Dean; he hates me!"

"No Sam, Dean loves you. The demon possessed him and made him do all that to hurt you."

"But...why?" Sam asked.

Dean rushed up, no longer able to stand in the backround. He pushed his way to Sam and gently took his face in his hands. Sam flinched, his body tensing.

"Sam, I could never hate you. You have to believe me. The demon got into my head. It tried to make me kill you and when that didn't work, it made me say those awful things to separate us." Dean's eyes implored Sam to believe him.

"You don't hate me? You don't wish I had never been born?" Sam asked timidly, hope filling his heart.

"God no! Sam, you are everything to me! I can live without Mom and Dad. It's hard, but I can do it. But Sam, I can't live without you. Please believe me. I would never, never hurt you!" Dean cried, taking Sam by the back of the head and pulling him into a hug.

Sam sunk into Dean and wrapped his arms around him, drawing strength from him. After a moment he pulled away and looked Dean in the eyes.

"I don't think you were meant to kill me. I think that was all part of the plan," he stated.

"What?" Dean asked, confusion in his voice.

"With the pillow. I don't think you were meant to kill me. I think it happened as it was supposed to."

"Why do you think that?"

"My last vision. The demon said I would die at the appointed time. That time hasn't come yet."

Dean looked at Bobby, who merely shrugged, then looked back at Sam. "So, you think everything that happened was meant to drive us apart?"

"Yeah, I think so..." Sam replied then broke into a painful coughing fit.

Dean grabbed Sam's shoulder with one hand and patted him gently on the back with the other while softly saying, "It's okay Sam, it's okay."

When the coughing stopped, Dean pushed Sam back and looked at his pale face. "You okay Sam?" he asked, his voice heavy with concern.

"Ye...yeah. Just a cold," Sam answered as he fell back against the couch back.

"Dean, we need to get him out'a here," Bobby said, looking at his watch.

"Can you stand Sam?" Dean asked, looking down at his little brother.

"Dean, we can't run from this; the demon will find me."

"Yeah? Well, we will make him do it on our terms Sammy, not his."

"How very optimistic Dean," a voice said from the kitchen.

Both Dean and Bobby spun around and instinctively moved in front of Sam. Their flashlights moved toward the door, illuminating the man that stood there. He was nondiscript, about Dean's height with dark hair. The one thing that stood out were his eyes. They were red.

"Stay away from my brother you son of a bitch!" Dean warned.

"Oh Dean. I'm not the son of anybody. And Jake here? Well, I don't know about his mother," the demon said as a small smile crept across his face.

"You're not touching my brother," Dean seethed through clenched teeth.

"And you're not stopping me," the demon replied as he took a step into the room.

Dean took a step forward, but stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Sam pulled himself beside Dean and looked at the demon.

"Dean, I don't think we can stop this and...I don't want you or Bobby to get hurt. Not for me," Sam said sadly.

"Oh Samuel. You are quite noble aren't you?" the demon hissed.

Dean pushed Sam behind he and Bobby again. "Sam, we're not leaving you. And you are the one person worth getting hurt for. We can stop this and we will."

"How touching," the demon remarked, wiping an invisible tear from his eye sarcastically. "I'm tiring of this little drama. Samuel, your time has come. Come with me." The demon held his hand out, expecting Sam to take it.

"No!" Sam shouted.

"You are not touching him," Dean hissed, moving further in front of Sam.

"Dean, Dean. You are brave, but stupid. My master demands Samuel's life be taken and it will."

"Well, I believe your master is going to be disappointed," Dean quipped as he and Bobby moved forward.

"My master is never disappointed." The demon flicked his hand and both Dean and Bobby flew across the room, smashing into the far wall, then both dropped bonelessly to the floor. Sam spun around and tried to find his brother and friend in the dark.

"Dean! Bobby!" he shouted in panic. When he received no reply he started for the back of the room. He made it two steps before he was grabbed from behind and flung backwards. He skittered across the floor then came to a stop against the wall. Black spots danced before his eyes, then the face of the demon loomed over him.

"It is time Samuel. Now either you follow me and I let your brother and friend live, or I make you come with me and they die," the demon said with a sneer.

"How can I trust you?" Sam questioned as he pulled himself up to a sitting position. "Demons lie."

"So do humans Samuel. My master only wants your life, the last of the great psychics. It's up to me who else lives or dies and I say if you follow, they live."

Sam looked toward where he knew Dean and Bobby were thrown, torn about what choice to make. He felt that either way he would die, so he made the decision to trust the demon and follow. It was the only chance Dean and Bobby had. He was about to ask a question when the demon spoke.

"I'll allow you to check on them Samuel, then we must go."

Sam nodded, then walked to where Dean and Bobby had hit the wall. He reached down and picked up one of the dropped flashlights. He went first to Dean and crouched down, feeling his neck for a pulse. The thump beneath his fingers was strong and steady and he gave a sigh of relief. He moved to Bobby and was rewarded with the same steady beat. He went once more to Dean and whispered softly into his ear, hoping he would somehow hear him.

"I'm sorry Dean, I have to make sure you and Bobby have a chance. Please live without me. I know you said you couldn't, but please live for me. I love you Dean."

Sam stood and looked down at his brother, then dropping the flashlight he walked to the demon. "I'm ready," he stated tonelessly.

The demon placed his hand on Sam's arm and led him from the room.

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**I know, I know. I give you a bonus chapter but then leave you with a very evil cliffie. :) More tomorrow.**

**Cindy.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Okay, apologies to everyone who commented and didn't receive a personal acknowledgement from me. I am having a nightmare of a time with my internet connection and when I was responding to comments, it just stopped. I decided to try and get the chapter posted first, then I will try again to answer everyone back. If you don't hear from me just know that I appreciate your comments immensely! Thank you all so much! Now, on with the story.**

**Cindy.**

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"Dean, wake up."

The voice was really pissing him off. All he wanted to do was sleep, and some asshole kept shaking him and telling him to wake up. It wasn't Sammy's voice, so who the hell did this jerk think he was? Wait a minute! Why wasn't Sam waking him? Where was Sam? Dean jerked awake and immediately shielded his eyes as a bright light blinded him.

"Dean, you okay?"

"Bobby? Where's Sam?" Dean cried as he jumped up from the floor, his eyes scanning the dark room. The night's events slammed into his brain, causing his breath to catch in his throat. Sam's fear. The demon. Flying, hitting something hard. Then darkness. Bobby nudged Dean, then handed him his flashlight. Dean surveyed the room. No Sammy. No sign of him anywhere.

"Where's Sam, Bobby?" Dean asked again, ignoring the dull throb in his head.

"I don't know. I just woke up and he was gone," Bobby replied, swallowing slowly at the ramifications of that statement.

"No, no, no, no," Dean whispered. "We just got him back Bobby. Now we've lost him again? We have no idea where he is!"

"We'll find him Dean."

"You heard the demon Bobby. It was Sam's time. He could already be de...he could be lost to me." Dean was in a panic, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Dean, calm down. We..."

"We don't even know where the demon took him. I've lost my brother Bobby. I've lost Sammy. I failed him. I promised him I'd keep him safe and I didn't."

Dean sunk down onto the couch, his head dropping into his hands. What was he going to do without Sam? A fleeting thought raced through his head. 'Please live without me. I love you Dean'. What the hell did that mean? Had Sam said that? Dean didn't remember him saying it, but it was Sam's voice in his head. 'God Sammy! How am I supposed to live without you? I don't know how.'

Bobby stood beside Dean and placed his hand on his shoulder as the younger man wept softly. A tear found it's way down the grizzled hunter's face as he felt the pain at the loss of the youngest Winchester grip his heart.

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The moment the demon touched him, Sam's world went dark. He was walking, but he didn't know where to. He felt almost as if he was floating as he could barely feel the ground beneath his feet. He didn't know how long they traveled; time had no meaning to him now. He knew he was going to die, and he knew how. His vision had prepared him, but he was still afraid. There would be pain, lots of it. He wouldn't die quickly. He would slowly bleed to death from the wound he would receive in his side. He could almost see the headline. 'Young Man Found Crucified'. He shuddered, hoping Dean wouldn't see the paper. He wondered about Dean and how he would be after this. He prayed that somehow Dean had heard him. He wanted Dean to live. He knew it would be hard for him, but he hoped in time Dean would be happy, free from the burden that was placed on him all those years ago.

Sam was so tired. He almost welcomed his death. At least old yellow-eyes wouldn't get what he wanted. Sam was tired of the constant fear in the back of his mind. Fear of what yellow-eyes had in store for him. Fear of what he would become if yellow-eyes got his way. Well, at least he could put those fears aside. He didn't have to worry about Dean anymore either. That was his biggest fear. Losing Dean to the demon. He hoped Dean would stay with Bobby. Bobby had become like their surrogate father. It would be good for Dean to stay with him.

Sam missed Dean already. God, he missed him so much. At least he could die knowing that Dean didn't hate him. His brother loved him unconditionally. Sam believed that now. He may die in pain and alone, but he would die happy. He would die knowing he was loved.

The darkness suddenly withdrew, and Sam blinked his eyes as they became accustomed to the light in the room he found himself in. It was the room from his vision. It was empty except for a table right in the middle of the floor. There were items on the table but Sam couldn't make out what they were. There was a strange glow in the room and Sam realized that there were dozens of candles burning, casting an eerie light. He could see the demon standing before him, about ten feet away. Sam tried to move, but he found he couldn't. He realized he was pressed against the wall and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move an inch.

"There is no use struggling Samuel. You can't break my hold. You gave yourself to me, remember. If you fight me, I will go back and end your brother's life," the demon hissed, it's red eyes glowing.

"Why are you doing this?" Sam gasped, finding it hard to breathe. Sweat trickled down his face and he knew his fever was back.

"My master commanded me to kill the strongest seven. You are the strongest. You are the seventh. You are the one that my brother said would be king."

"Yellow-eyes is your brother?"

"Yes, but my loyalty is not with him."

"You...you said there was seven?"

"The other six are already dead."

"Six other psychics? Like me?"

"Yes, six others. But not like you. You are much stronger and purer. Strong enough and pure enough that my master fears you."

"I would never follow your brother."

"My master cannot take that chance. There can only be one king. You are a threat whether you follow my brother or not. If you do, you will become king. If you do not you will lead the forces of good against us."

"But..."

"No more questions. Your time has come."

The demon moved toward Sam until it was directly in front of him. It placed it's hand on Sam's chest and it was at that moment Sam realized he was not wearing his jacket or shirts. The demon murmured something that Sam did not understand and a coldness spread across his chest from where the demon held it's hand. The demon abruptly ended it's murmuring and removed it's hand from Sam's chest. The coldness slowly disappeared as the demon backed away until it stood next to the lone table.

The demon looked Sam in the eyes and smiled, then lifted it's hand slightly. Sam's arms began to ascend up the wall until they were stretched straight out from his shoulders.

"You are the saint Samuel, and you will die as the One did," the demon said. It glanced briefly at the table and a spike that had been lying there suddenly shot through the air, piercing Sam's right hand and impaling it to the wall.

A scream pierced the stillness that could have easily shaken the walls of heaven.

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**Well, that's it for now. I had planned on posting another chapter later, but with my internet problems, I don't think I will do one until tomorrow evening. Thank you all for reading.**

**Cindy**


	16. Chapter 16

**Well, my internet is working better today thankfully! If I missed anybody in answering your reviews, I'm sorry as I wasn't sure if all of them actually went out. I appreciate all of your comments and always look forward to reading them! You guys are the best. Anywhoooo...here's more.**

**Cindy.**

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Dean and Bobby both flinched when they heard the scream. Dean was on his feet in a heartbeat, turning circles trying to determine where the scream had come from. The darkness of the room was disorienting. He didn't know exactly what was happening, but the one thing he did know was that the scream had come from Sam.

"SAMMY!" Dean shouted, scanning the room in a desperate search for his duffel bag.

"Here Dean!" Bobby called as he crouched over the bag. He began to pull items from the bag and handed them to Dean.

"Where's it coming from Bobby?" Dean cried. The scream seemed to last forever before it died away.

"I think upstairs," Bobby replied, pocketing a bottle of holy water.

"Let's go!" Dean yelled, then began the search for the stairs.

"Dean, we need to be quiet. The demon can't know we're coming," Bobby said as he took hold of Dean's arm.

Dean looked at Bobby then nodded, "Yeah, okay. You're right. Now, where are the fucking stairs!"

"Over here Dean. Found 'em."

Dean headed for Bobby and they started up the stairs. Dean's foot had just reached the third step when another ear splitting scream rang out. Both he and Bobby broke into a run up the stairs and upon reaching the top saw that at the end of the hall, soft light was coming from a room. They quickly, but quietly made their way to the room as the screaming died away. What they saw when they reached the room made their blood run cold.

Sam was pinned to a wall, his hands impaled by two large spikes. Blood streamed from the wounds on both sides of his hands, making dark trails down the white walls from the backs of his hands, and pooling on the floor from his palms. Sweat covered his shaking body as his breath came out in quick pants. His eyes were wide and pain filled.

"Sammy!" Dean screamed as he ran into the room, all thoughts of remaining hidden gone. He sprayed the surprised demon with holy water as he ran into the room. Bobby did the same and the demon screeched as his skin sizzled and steamed.

Dean raced to Sam and grabbed him, supporting his body as the demon's hold loosened. Sam cried out as his weight pulled on his tortured hands.

"I got you Sammy. Don't worry, I'll get you outa' here!" Dean whispered urgently into Sam's ear.

"N...no Dean! You and Bo...Bobby have to g...get out," Sam gasped, the pain overwhelming.

"No way Sam," Dean said, looking into Sam's glassy eyes. "We're leaving together."

Although Sam was shivering, his skin was hot to the touch. He was deathly pale, but had a red flush to his cheeks. Dean feared he was going into shock. They had to get him to a hospital in a hurry. Dean looked at Sam's hands, his stomach queasy. He had to figure out a way to get Sam off the wall without hurting him further.

Dean heard a loud thud, followed by a groan and before he could turn he felt himself being flung backward against the wall, where he remained, held by an invisible force.

"Dean Winchester, you are becoming quite a thorn in my side," the demon hissed as he approached the trapped hunter. "Did you really think a little holy water would hold me for long?"

"I do what I can," the hunter replied, a smirk across his face.

"Well Samuel," the demon said, turning back to Sam. "It seems we will have an audience." The demon moved toward Sam, stopping at the table.

"You stay away from him you evil bastard!" Dean shouted, struggling against the force that held him.

"Dean...don't. Please," Sam cried softly.

"Listen to your brother Dean and I'll let you and your friend walk out of here. Your brother and I had a deal and you are one step away from breaking it," the demon said. It lifted something from the table and Dean's heart nearly stopped. The demon held the fabled crown of thorns, only this crown was made from barbed wire. The demon stepped toward Sam.

"NO! Don't you touch him! I'm going to rip you apart you son of a bitch!" Dean seethed.

Bobby watched the scene unfolding and struggled to break free from the wall. The demon had him held firmly and it was no use. He couldn't move. "Dean, this won't help Sam," he whispered to the man beside him.

"If it gets his attention away from Sam, then it will work," Dean whispered back.

"Silence!" the demon shouted and both hunters found they could no longer speak.

The demon walked to Sam, whose chin had fallen to his chest. Tremors shook Sam's body and his breathing had become shallow. His hands throbbed as they continued to bleed.

"Raise your head Samuel," the demon demanded, raising the barbed wire ring over his head. Sam slowly lifted his head and gazed into the demon's eyes. The demon smiled, then slowly pushed the barbed wire down over Sam's head.

"Ahhh...God!" Sam cried as the barbs tore through his scalp, some almost to the bone. Blood quickly began to trickle down his face and mixed with the sweat that already was dripping from his hairline.

Dean and Bobby struggled, their faces red from the exertion. Tears of frustration ran down Dean's cheeks as he tried to voice his fury. The only sound that came from him was a muffled cry. With a strength he didn't know he possessed, Dean was finally able to break the demon's hold, and was released from the wall, a scream ripping from his throat.

"NOOOO! Sam!!!" he cried, his rage propelling him toward the shocked demon. He was within three feet of the demon when he stopped mid step, unable to move any further.

"Dean, your strength surprises me," the demon hissed, staring Dean down.

"Let Sam go or I will kill you!" Dean threatened, fury lighting a fire in his eyes.

The demon took an involuntary step backward before laughing confidently. "You can't stop this Dean. Now, I am tired of this game."

The demon held his hand out toward Dean and instantly Dean started gasping. He grabbed at his throat as his face turned a deep shade of red. He couldn't get any air into his lungs as he tried to pry the invisible hand that was choking him away.

Sam watched through a fevered veil as his brother struggled for air. "De...Dean, NO!" he cried. "You...promised he would...live."

"That was before he interfered Samuel," the demon smirked.

"Let...him...go!"

"He will die Samuel, then your friend."

"NOOOO!" Sam screamed.

Suddenly the demon cried out and Dean dropped to the floor, gasping for air.

"Samuel? Wh..what are you doing?" the demon shouted as the man he inhabited dropped to his knees.

Sam's body shook and an electricity filled the room causing the men's hair to stand on end. Bobby dropped from the wall and quickly crawled to Dean's side, then pulled him up to a kneeling position.

Jake's body began to convulse uncontrollably, and he fell to his back. The convulsions continued, then Jake opened his mouth in an earth shattering scream. Black demon smoke poured from his mouth and swirled on the ceiling before disappearing in a flash of bright light.

Dean and Bobby looked toward the man on the floor. He thankfully appeared to be breathing. Bobby stood and pulled a shaky Dean up with him. Dean pulled free from Bobby and rushed to Sam.

Without the demon's hold on him, Sam had sagged away from the wall, the only thing keeping him from falling being his impaled hands. Dean reached him and carefully pushed him up in an effort to relieve the pressure on his hands.

"Bobby! Help me!" Dean cried, looking over his shoulder at the older man. Bobby left the unconscious Jake on the floor and rushed to help Dean hold a barely conscious Sam up. Sam raised his head slightly and looked at Dean with glassy eyes.

"De..an? You 'k?" he whispered, blood trickling from his nose and mouth.

"Yeah Sam. You saved me kiddo," Dean said as he tried to determine how to get Sam free without hurting him anymore than need be. "Bobby, how do we get him down?"

"Hold him and I'll try to pull the spikes out," Bobby replied. Dean nodded his head then stopped Bobby. "Wait. Maybe we should get this off first," he said, indicating the barbed wire.

"Hold him," Bobby said as he took hold of the ring and gently began to pull it from Sam's head. Sam cried out through gritted teeth, panting through the pain.

"Shhh. It's okay Sammy," Dean soothed, holding Sam firmly in his arms. Sam's head slowly lowered and rested on Dean's shoulder.

Once the barbed wire was off, Bobby examined Sam's hands to determine the best way to free him from the wall.

"I think the only way is to just pull them straight out. I'm sorry Dean but it's going to hurt him," Bobby said apologetically.

Dean closed his eyes, sighing before nodding his head. "Sammy? Hey kiddo, Bobby's gonna pull out spikes, but it's going to hurt. You okay with that?"

"S'k De..." Sam replied in a barely audible voice.

Dean looked at Bobby with weary eyes as Bobby dialed 911 on his cell. Once Bobby had summoned help, he went back to Sam's hands. The bleeding had slowed, but once the spikes were pulled, that would change. Bobby looked at Dean, his eyes questioning. Dean nodded and Bobby took hold of the first spike, pulling with all his strength until the spike pulled free from the wall and then through Sam's hand. Sam cried out as his arm dropped bonelessly to his side. Dean gripped Sam harder, bracing for the added weight.

"Sammy, you okay?" Dean asked, his voice hitching.

"Mmmm..." was the only reply he received.

Bobby moved quickly to the other hand, grasped the spike and pulled it free. The only sound from Sam was a small groan as his full weight fell into Dean. Bobby hurriedly grabbed Sam around the back and shoulders and helped Dean lower him to the floor. His shivering became more pronounced so Dean removed his jacket and wrapped it around Sam's shoulders and torso. Dean lifted his flannel shirt and ripped strips from his tee shirt. He and Bobby wrapped Sam's hands as best they could to help slow the flow of blood.

Dean leaned over Sam, who had made no sound save for a soft moan during their ministrations. "Sammy! Hey kiddo, you need to open your eyes for me," Dean pled as he lightly tapped Sam's cheek. Sam made no move to comply. Dean touched his neck and felt a weak but steady pulse. He lifted Sam's head and rested it on his lap then gently brushed Sam's wet bangs out of his eyes.

Bobby in the meantime had moved to check on Jake, who was starting to stir. "How's Sam? Dean! How is he?" Bobby asked, shaking Dean from his thoughts.

"He needs a hospital now Bobby! He barely has a pulse, he's burning up, and he's going into shock," Dean replied urgently.

"They're on their way Dean. I think I hear the sirens now. I'll go down and lead them in. Will you be okay?"

"Yeah, go Bobby. How's he doing?" Dean asked, nodding his head toward Jake.

"He'll be fine. Probably be freaked, but other than that, he's okay."

"Good. Thanks Bobby."

Bobby nodded, then headed down the stairs to wait for the paramedics.

Dean leaned over Sam as far as he could, speaking into his ear in hushed tones.

"You fight Sammy. Don't you dare leave me! You fight this and come back to me. You are so strong. You killed that demon and saved me. Now, save yourself."

Dean held Sam's head gently and waited for help to arrive.

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**Not so evil?? I mean, I know Sammy's really in bad shape, but at least he's not in the demon's clutches anymore. Please let me know what you think.**

**Cindy.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Okay, so I'm home from my nightshift and am not going to bed today, so I thought I'd put out a chapter early. I will still post another one tonight at the regular time. I hope this is okay with everyone? LOL Here it is.**

**Cindy**

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The following forty five minutes was an exhausting flurry of activity. After Bobby had led the paramedics up, they had pushed Dean aside so they could work on Sam, shouting instructions and vitals and what not. Dean stood to the side watching the paramedics every movement and making sure they weren't hurting Sam.

The police had come and pulled Dean aside. They wanted to know exactly what had happened. Dean explained that Sam had disappeared and that he and Bobby had found him nailed to the wall and this other guy collapsed on the floor. He told them that whomever had done this had gotten away but he was able to give a description. When the cops had asked how Dean and Bobby had managed to find Sam in this rundown, abandoned house, Dean had explained that they had tracked him by the GPS in his cell phone. Then Dean had excused himself, saying he needed to be with his brother in case he woke up, and if they had any more questions for him they would just have to talk to him later.

When the cops talked to Bobby, they got the same story as Dean had given them. Then they talked to Jake, but they got nowhere with him because the poor guy couldn't even tell them how he came to be in the house. To say he was freaked out was a major understatement. A paramedic had finally been forced to sedate him.

Once Sam had been stablized well enough, he was loaded into the ambulance and taken to the nearest hospital with Dean and Bobby following in the Impala. Jake had been allowed to go home with a promise to talk to the cops when he had calmed down. Dean and Bobby had reached the hospital and had come through the ER doors just as Sam's gurney disappeared through the exam area doors. Dean was given forms to fill out, and they were both asked to have a seat in the waiting area until someone came to talk to them about Sam's condition. The papers had been filled out and Dean had sat down next to Bobby and that's where they still were at the present time.

Dean stood up from his chair, stretching his stiff muscles then began to pace the length of the waiting room. On his fourth trip back by Bobby, he stopped.

"How long have they had him back there for God's sake!?" he exclaimed in frustration.

Bobby glanced at his watch, then answered, "'Bout an hour. Just settle down Dean, they'll be out when they're done."

"I just need to know what's going on! I can't lose him. I wish they'd get out here already!" Dean cried as he started pacing again.

Bobby shook his head as he watched his young friend. He was worried too about Sam. Sam had been extremely pale when he was taken away. He had lost a good amount of blood. He had not even stirred as the paramedics tried to stablize him. They were very worried about the blood loss and shock. There was also concern about his chest. They didn't like what they heard when they listened to his heart and lungs. They had whisked him off to the hospital and there had been no word since. The last he or Dean had seen of Sam was when the ambulance doors had slammed and the ambulance had sped off down the road. Bobby thought Dean was doing quite well considering the circumstances.

The doors to the exam area opened and a tall, graying man stepped through.

"Are you here for Samuel Jenkins?" the man asked Dean.

"Yeah. I'm his brother, Dean. How is Sam?" Dean asked, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

"Let's sit down and talk. I'm Doctor Ameche," the doctor said as he offered his hand to Dean.

Dean shook his hand and nodded his head.

"So, how's my brother?"

"Well, I have to say, your brother is quite lucky," Dr. Ameche started.

"How so?" Dean replied.

"Aside from the injuries he was brought in for, he did have some injuries that were a few days old. He has bruised and cracked ribs, and also a cracked cheekbone, accompanied by a slight concussion. Now, who's to say if the same person who caused his most recent injuries is the same one who caused the older ones. I just don't know. Now, he also presented with irregular chest sounds. An x-ray confirmed that your brother has pneumonia."

"Pneumonia? How serious is it?" Dean asked, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Luckily it hasn't progressed to the point of being critical. It is however a very serious situation, but we have Samuel on a high dosage of antibiotics to deal with this."

"And his other injuries?"

"Samuel is very rundown and dehydrated. And with the bitter cold, all of these things have contributed to his pneumonia. Those are going to be taken care of. Now, he had numerous scalp lacerations, several serious enough to require stitches. In fact, there were a few that were all the way to his skull."

The doctor stopped when Dean paled. He reached a hand out and placed it on Dean's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"The lacerations have been taken care of Mr. Jenkins," Dr. Ameche said, a slight smile on his face.

"Please, just call me Dean. What about Sam's hands? They looked really bad."

"Ahhh, yes his hands. Now this is where the biggest problems arise. The injuries Samuel sustained to his hands are quite serious. The wounds are in a place where bone and nerve damage is very likely to occur. Samuel is being prepared for surgery as we speak to try and repair the damage. I have to be honest with you Dean. Samuel will most likely suffer permanent loss of some function in his hands, especially the left one. Now, the extent of the loss won't be known for awhile, not until he recovers enough to start physical therapy." The doctor waited for Dean's response patiently, understanding the seriousness of the information he had relayed.

After a few moments, Dean regained his composure and spoke. "With Sam's pneumonia, won't surgery be all the more dangerous?"

"Well, we would rather not operate with his health diminished this way, but we have to move quickly if we are going to give him any use back in his hands. I assure you, all precautions will be taken to insure Samuels well being. He will be intubated to help with his breathing and his vitals will be constantly monitored. Samuel's in good hands Dean."

"Okay. Do whatever you have to for my brother. Thank you doctor. Thank you so much." Dean shook the doctor's hand then lowered his face, not wanting his tears to be seen.

"You're welcome Dean. Now, I better get ready for surgery. This is going to be a long haul so I'll have you taken to the surgical waiting area where you'll be more comfortable," Dr. Ameche said before turning and walking back through the exam area doors.

Dean and Bobby were soon escorted to the surgical waiting area and left alone.

"Shit Bobby! Sam may not be able to use his hands. And with his pneumonia, he could die on the operating table!" Dean cried anxiously.

"Dean, you heard the doctor. They're gonna do all they can for Sam. He's a strong young man. He'll be just fine," Bobby replied, trying to console the younger man.

"I know he's strong, but between those jerks beating the crap out of him and the cold, no food or water, and then the fucking demon! How much can one body take?"

"You know Sam. He can take a lot. This will be a piece of cake for him."

"Yeah, I guess. But Bobby, what about his will to live? Do you think he truly believes that I don't hate him? I mean, if he still thinks that what was said came from me, his will to survive may be gone."

"I think Sam will always fight to stay with you Dean. Even through the pain and his illness, I saw hope in his eyes. He knows you love him. He will fight to live. No doubt about it!"

"I hope you're right Bobby. God, I hope you're right!" Dean said softly.

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**Well, there it is. Sam's in rough shape and Dean is worried he has lost his will to fight. Please let me know what you think. Will post more later. Take care all!**

**Cindy.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Thank you all so much!! Here is the next chapter for you all. I hope you enjoy it.**

**Cindy.**

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Sam was floating in nothingness. There was no dark, no light, no hot, no cold. There was nothing at all. He felt no pain. He heard no sounds, smelled no scents. Was this what it was like to be dead? Was he dead? He didn't know, didn't really want to know. If he was dead, then Dean was alone. He tried not to think about it, but apparently despite the nothingness he was surrounded by, his mind was fully functioning. He thought of Dean and how he would handle his death. It would not be good. If he had not spoken with Dean before the demon took him, he may have thought that this was what Dean would want. But Dean had told him that he loved him. Dean had searched for and found him, had tried to protect him when the demon had shown up. He couldn't leave Dean alone. He had to get out of this place of nothingness, had to get back to Dean.

Sam fought with everything he had to pull himself from this place, but nothing changed. He tried to get a foothold where none existed. He wished he could feel something, anything. Pain would even be nice. At least if he felt pain then he was probably alive. But he felt nothing. His mind was the only thing that worked and it was giving him little comfort. If he could think, then he had to be alive. So if he was alive, why couldn't he get out of this nothingness? His mind started to sink into despair. He started to shut down, he couldn't handle this void. Just as he thought he would sink into oblivion however, he thought he heard something. He had to be mistaken. How could he hear something when there was nothing there?

Sam strained his ears, hoping to hear it again. If he could hear, then he could possibly get out of wherever he was. When Sam heard nothing, he began to believe it had been his imagination. He started to shut down again, but then he heard it again. He was instantly on alert. The sound was louder this time, but he still could not make it out. He listened intently to try and discern what the sound was.

The sound came again and this time Sam could tell it was a voice. He could not yet tell what the voice was saying or whom it had come from. He turned his head to try and hear more clearly. The voice sounded again and Sam could now hear what it was saying.

"Sammy?"

Sam struggled to move toward the voice. He tried to speak, but could not. He had to get through. He had to let Dean know he was here.

"Sammy, can you hear me?"

'I'm here Dean, I'm here!' Sam tried to shout, but as hard as he tried, he could not speak. Why couldn't he speak, or move for that matter? He had to get Dean to hear him. He didn't want Dean to think he was gone. He had to get through. The voice came again, more urgently this time.

"Sam, please wake up for me man. Sammy, open your eyes!"

'I'm trying Dean! Please keep talking. I can't find you! Please Dean, help me find you!'

Sam thought that if he didn't reach Dean soon, he would be lost to him forever. A lone tear trailed down his cheek, but he couldn't feel it.

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"Sam, wake up sleepyhead," Dean cooed as he gently tapped Sam on the cheek.

Sam had come through surgery just fine and his vitals were improving. There was just the small matter of him waking up. Doctor Ameche had said he should be awake by now, but wasn't overly concerned. He surmised that Sam had been through quite an ordeal and his body was severely exhausted. He assured Dean that Sam would awaken when his body was ready. Dean however was a mess. He needed to see his little brothers eyes, needed to hear his voice. Only then would he be able to relax.

Dean had managed to get some sleep while Sam was in surgery, but not much. And once Sam had been settled in his hospital room, Dean had taken a short nap. Now he was all about getting his brother to wake up, to join the land of the living. He watched his sleeping brother's face, noticing the canula beneath his nose, providing him the oxygen he needed that his fluid filled lungs couldn't provide. Dean so wanted to pick up Sam's hand and give it a squeeze to let him know he was there waiting for him to wake, but he couldn't. Sam's hands were heavily bandaged and both were lying over his stomach.

Dean's gaze rested on Sam's hands. He prayed that Sam would gain complete use of them again. Doctor Ameche said the surgery went as well as could be expected. He had relayed to Dean the extensive damage that was encountered, but seemed optimistic that with intense physical therapy, Sam would be able to use his hands again. He didn't know how much use Sam would regain, but he was more optimistic than he had been before the surgery. Doctor Ameche was careful to point out that Sam was still in serious condition, what with his blood loss and pneumonia. But the doctor was confident that the antibiotics would do their job and Sam would recover quickly.

Dean tapped Sam's cheek again, trying to break through his exhaustion and drug induced slumber.

"Sammy?"

Dean gently shook Sam's shoulder, wanting desperately to see Sam's soft, hazel eyes.

"Sammy, can you hear me?"

There was still no response. Dean brushed his shaky hand through his hair as he turned away. He stood by the window, looking out onto the snow covered grounds. Dean trusted Doctor Ameche when he said Sam was going to recover, but he needed Sam to wake up to really accept it. He needed to hear Sam's soft voice and know that Sam could hear him. No matter what the doctors did to help his little brother, nothing would work if Sam had lost his will to survive. The fact that Sam hadn't woken yet scared Dean endlessly. It made him think that Sam hadn't believed him before. His heart pounded in his chest at the prospect of losing Sam and he turned to his brother again, inching up to the side of his bed. He softly brushed Sam's unruly hair from his eyes, then left his hand resting on Sam's forehead.

"Sam, please wake up for me man. Sammy, open your eyes!" Dean cried as tears filled his eyes. He blinked the tears away and they fell down his cheeks.

Dean was about to turn away again when he saw something that made his breath catch in his throat. A single tear softly rolled down Sam's cheek. Sam's eyes then began to move under his lids. Dean bent down closer to Sam's face, cupping Sam's cheek in his palm.

"That's it Sam! Open your eyes. I'm right here waiting for you little brother."

A soft moan escaped from Sam's throat and he slowly moved his head toward Dean.

"Come on Sammy. You can do it. I know you can't wait to lay your eyes on this handsome mug!" Dean coaxed.

Finally, Sam's eyes sluggishly opened and rested on Dean's face. A small smile curled his lips.

"There you are little brother! I was beginning to think you were gonna pull a Rip Van Winkle on me," Dean teased, his spirits lifting immediately upon seeing Sam's smile.

"I...I couldn't...find...you," Sam rasped as another tear spilled from his eye.

"What do you mean Sammy? When couldn't you find me?" Dean asked, confusion in his eyes.

"I woke up...and there...was nothing," Sam whispered. "I c...couldn't find you. But...I followed...your voice."

"Well, you found me Sammy. I'm right here where I belong."

"Dean?"

"Yeah Sam?"

"Are...are you okay?"

"Sam, I'm fine."

"And Bobby?"

"Bobby's fine too. He's out getting a motel room."

"Good. You sure you're okay?" Sam whispered worriedly.

"I'm sure Sam. You made sure of that. Not quite sure how you did it, but you sent that son of a bitch packing!" Dean replied, looking at Sam with both pride and relief.

"Oh my God!" Sam suddenly cried, then began to cough fitfully.

"What! What's wrong Sammy?!" Dean shouted, grabbing Sam's shoulders and helping him to sit up, then lightly hitting his back.

"The man, is he okay? The man who...who was possessed."

"Geez Sam, you scared the shit out of me! The man is okay. He was really freaked out, but he's okay," Dean replied as he tried to calm his breathing.

"Good. Sorry Dean, for scaring you," Sam said softly. Dean helped Sam lay back down after he rearranged the pillows on the bed.

"It's okay Sam. Now, you need to stop worrying about everybody else and worry about yourself."

Sam's forehead suddenly scrunched up and Dean could see pain in his eyes. Sweat beaded on his brow, and Dean automatically went into hyper-protective mode.

"What's wrong Sam? Are you in pain?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.

"N...no, I'm fine. It's nothing Dean," Sam replied breathlessly.

"Don't bullshit me Sam! I know you and right now, you're in pain. Tell me what's wrong," Dean scolded.

"My hands. They really hurt. And my chest. Why does my chest hurt Dean?" Sam answered, wincing as he tried to raise his heavy hands.

"You have pneumonia. That's why they have you on oxygen," Dean replied. "Why didn't you tell me your hands were hurting?"

"They don't hurt that bad. It's okay."

"That's crap Sam and you know it!"

"Fine! I...I don't want anything that will make me sleep."

"Why Sam? You need to rest in order to get better."

"I...I'm scared, okay?"

"Of what Sammy?"

"I'm afraid if I go back to sleep, I...I won't be able to find you again." Sam dropped his eyes to his lap, ashamed to have admitted to Dean that he was afraid.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed and gently grabbed Sam's chin, pulling it up until Sam looked at him. "Sam, you don't have to worry about that. I will always find you. I will always bring you back to me."

"You always do Dean," Sam muffled lightly.

"You got that right Sammy boy! Now just let me get a nurse and we'll get you taken care of."

"You'll stay here won't you? Please don't leave," Sam pled, his soft eyes never leaving Dean's.

"I'm not going anywhere Sam. I'll be here when you fall asleep and I'll be here when you wake up."

"Thanks Dean. Sorry I'm such a pain in the ass."

"Hey, I'm used to it bro," Dean said then stepped out into the hall to flag down Sam's nurse.

Once the nurse came in, she checked Sam's vitals and temperature then shot a syringe of liquid into Sam's IV. She smiled kindly then left the room.

"You're gonna feel better real soon Sammy," Dean said, watching Sam closely.

Sam's eyelids grew heavy as he watched Dean. He shook his head, trying to keep from falling asleep, but he soon lost his battle. As he succumbed to the drugs affects, he quietly whispered, "Thanks De...love ya."

"I love you too Sammy," Dean replied, a smile on his face.

Dean watched Sam as he slept, never leaving his bedside. He gently fingered Sam's bruised and swollen cheek, then glanced at the bandages on his head where the worst of the lacerations from the barbed wire were. He shuddered when he thought about how close he had come to losing Sam. There was still a long road ahead to travel, but he would be there to help Sam every step of the way. He didn't look forward to the pain that Sam would have to endure, but that was better than not having him here at all.

Dean rested his arms on the side of Sam's bed then rested his head on them. He closed his eyes and fell asleep with one thought on his mind.

'I'm never going to let anything take you from me again Sammy. I promise.'

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**Well, there it is. I'm really happy to post some wonderful brotherly love, especially after last nights episode. I'm still shaken up about that one. Anyway, please let me know what you think.**

**Cindy.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Okay, I have a shorter chapter for you all. The rocky road hasn't quite evened out yet and there will be more potholes along the way. Nine chapters after this one to go, so we have a bit of time for things to fall apart again. Anyway, here it is.**

**Cindy.**

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**One Week Later**

"No! Just get away and leave me alone!" Sam shouted as Dr. Ameche stood next to his bed, his hands held in a placating manner.

"Samuel, it's going to be okay. I just need to check you okay?" Dr. Ameche said calmly.

"It's Sam! Not Samuel! SAM!!" Sam cried, his face red and his breaths coming in hitches.

"Okay, Sam," Dr. Ameche corrected. "Please, let me see your hands."

"Get the hell away from me!" Sam yelled, tears of fear and frustration leaking from his eyes.

Suddenly the door to Sam's room burst open and Dean and Bobby came barreling in, stopping short at the scene in front of them. Dr. Ameche stood on one side of Sam's bed with a nurse on the other. Sam was sat straight up in his bed, his face red and sweaty, tears rolling down his cheeks. He was close to hyperventilating and Dean thought he looked about ready to pass out.

"What the hell is going on here?" Dean spat as he pushed his way to Sam's side.

"De...Dean, please get them out. Please?" Sam pleaded, falling back tiredly onto his pillows.

Dean turned questioning eyes on Dr. Ameche. "What's happening? Why is he so upset?"

"I just told Sam it was time to remove the bandages from his hands and check for movement and feeling and he went ballistic," Dr. Ameche replied, confusion clouding his pleasant face.

Dean turned to Sam as Bobby moved in behind him, his eyes fixed on the youngest Winchester.

"Sammy? Why won't you let the doctor check your hands?" Dean asked softly.

"I just...don't want to right now. I'm tired, I just want to sleep," Sam said softly, turning his head and closing his eyes.

Dean stared at Sam for a moment, shaking his head slightly. He turned to Dr. Ameche, nodding toward the far corner. The doctor followed him. "Can you give me a little time with him? I'll find out what exactly is up with him."

"If you can talk some sense into him. I need to check his hands as soon as possible. We need to start physical therapy if we are going to get him back to normal, or as close as we can get him," Dr. Ameche replied, motioning to the nurse to follow him out.

"Thanks doc. I'll talk to him," Dean said, shaking the doctor's hand.

Dr. Ameche and the nurse exited the room and Dean glanced at Bobby before turning his eyes back to Sam. Bobby stood back from the bed, sitting on the window ledge as he studied Sam's face. The swelling had gone down over Sam's broken cheekbone, but the bruise had darkened and nearly covered the whole right side of his face. The bandages had been removed from his head and he no longer needed oxygen, except for when he slept. Sam's physical injuries were healing and his pneumonia was improving. The concern now was the mental and emotional problems.

Sam had been having nightmares, but he seemed to be handling them okay. There had been a few occasions when he had awakened to find no Dean in the room and had to be sedated. He and Dean were working on this, with Dean leaving for increasingly longer intervals and Sam working to control his fears.

This new snag was more perplexing. Both Dean and Bobby wondered why Sam didn't want the bandages removed. The sooner they were off, the sooner he could start PT and get the use of his hands back. The bandages had been changed several times over the past week, but Sam had been pretty much out of it whenever this was done.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed, watching Sam for a moment, before reaching out and gently nudging his shoulder.

"Sam? I know you're not sleeping so just open your eyes and look at me," Dean said, waiting for his brother to comply.

"I don't want to talk Dean," Sam replied, keeping his eyes closed.

"Sam, we need to talk about this. Why don't you want the bandages off?"

Sam opened his eyes and looked at Dean. He lowered his eyes and sighed heavily, knowing Dean was not going to let this go.

"I don't...uh, I don't want to find out that...shit..." Sam started.

"What is it Sam?" Dean prodded.

Bobby stood up and made a move to the door, wanting to give the brothers some privacy. A soft voice stopped him.

"Don't leave Bobby," Sam whispered. "You're part of this family…please stay."

Bobby's cheeks warmed and he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. He turned and walked to the opposite side of Sam's bed, smiling warmly at the boy.

"Sam, whatever is going on, your brother and I are here to help you through it. Let us help you," Bobby said, patting Sam on the arm.

"Thanks Bobby."

"Um, so Sammy, what's up?" Dean asked, glancing quickly at Bobby and smiling.

"Dean? What if there's nothing there? I mean, what if when they take the bandages off, I can't move my hands at all?" Sam looked on the verge of tears again, but did not allow them to fall.

"Sammy, that's not gonna happen," Dean replied.

"You don't know that. There could be more nerve damage than they thought. What good am I if I can't use my hands? Come on Dean, tell me!"

"Sam, what do you want me to say? What good are you? My God Sam! Do you think it would matter to me? You mean everything to me, whether you can use your hands or not!"

"I won't be able to hunt anymore. I won't be able to research, and we both know that's what I'm best at. I won't be able to hold a weapon or watch your back. I'll just be your crippled little brother that has to be taken care of. I can't do that!" Sam cried, lowering his eyes.

Dean swallowed, slowly shaking his head. "Shit Sam, where'd this all come from? This isn't you! You're a glass half full type of guy. Not this self pitying person I'm looking at right now."

Sam looked up, his eyes so sad that Dean had to look away.

"Dean, I don't know if I can do it. I'm so tired," he said softly.

"I know you're tired Sam, but you're strong. Besides, me and Bobby will be here. You can do this, just believe in yourself a little, okay?"

"I'll try Dean. I'm scared though."

"I know, so am I. We'll get through this Sammy. We always do."

"Are you sure Dean? Because, I sure don't feel like I'm gonna get through it," Sam said sadly.

"I know it Sam. You've been through hell kiddo, but you survived. You saved Bobby and me…you saved that guy too. We'll get through whatever comes our way. Just believe in yourself a little Sammy, 'cause I sure believe in you," Dean replied with conviction.

Sam smiled softly and nodded appreciatively. "Okay Dean. You can get Dr. Ameche. We might as well get this over with," he said reluctantly.

"That's my boy!' Dean quipped as he headed for the door.

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**Sooooooo? What do you think? Please let me know. There will be another chapter tonight so until then.......................................**

**Cindy.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Okay, another shorter chapter. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks to all who are reading and commenting, I really appreciate it.**

**Cindy.**

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"Okay Sam, I'm going to remove the bandages now. Don't try to move your fingers until I tell you to, alright?" Dr. Ameche stated as he sat next to Sam's bed.

Sam looked to Dean with apprehension. Dean nodded slightly and smiled as he placed his hand firmly on Sam's shoulder. "It'll be okay Sammy."

"Go ahead Dr. Ameche, I'm ready," Sam said, watching the doctor intently. Bobby stood nervously at the end of the bed.

"Alright, so I will first remove the outer layer of the bandage, then the middle layer, and finally the last layer. I won't remove the bandage directly on the wounds. Let's start with your right hand first," Dr. Ameche said. "Are you ready Sam?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Sam replied.

Dr. Ameche nodded and gently took Sam's right hand. He began to unwrap the outer layer of bandages. Once this layer was removed, Sam's fingertips became visible. "Okay Sam, I'm going to remove the next layer. Don't try to move your fingers just yet. I'll let you know when I want you to move them."

Sam nodded slightly, feeling Dean's grip on his shoulder tighten a little. The doctor proceeded to remove the next layer of bandages. Sam's fingers became completely visible. Sam peered at his fingers and his heart rate immediately jumped. His mouth went dry and he turned his eyes away. Dr. Ameche noticed Sam's reaction and gently patted his forearm. "It's okay Sam. I know this is stressful, but everything is going to be fine," the doctor said with a reassuring smile. Sam gave a small smile back.

"Alright, the last layer is ready to come off."

Dr. Ameche removed the final layer until just the bandages over Sam's wounds remained. He pulled Sam's hand up toward him and gently poked Sam's fingertips with a metal instrument.

"Can you feel that Sam?" the doctor asked.

"Um, yeah! It's dull but I can feel it," Sam replied, sitting up straighter on his bed.

"Good! That's good Sam," Dr. Ameche remarked. "Now, I want you to try and move your fingers for me."

Sam nodded as he attempted to wriggle his fingers. Nothing happened. Dean moved his hand from Sam's shoulder down his arm, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

"That's okay Sammy. Try again," he prodded.

Sam gazed up at Dean, then back at the doctor. Bobby shuffled from one foot to the other at the end of the bed.

"Try again Sam," the doctor said.

Sam concentrated on his hand again. After a moment, his fingertips twitched. Sam lifted his gaze up to the doctor expectantly. The doctor smiled.

"That's good Sam. Try again. Try to move your fingers."

Sam tried again and was able to wiggle his fingers, albeit weakly.

Sam looked up to Dean, a dimpled smile on his face. Dean's heart leapt in his chest. It had been a long time since he had seen that smile. He clapped Sam on the arm happily.

"I knew you could do it Sammy! Look at that Bobby!" Dean exclaimed. Bobby smiled first at Dean, then at Sam.

"That's great Sam!" Bobby cried.

"Wonderful Sam," Dr. Ameche said, laying Sam's hand down. He then took Sam's left hand.

"Let's do your left hand now. Are you ready?"

"Sure Dr. Ameche," Sam quipped, his spirits lifting for the first time in nearly two weeks.

The doctor removed the bandages from Sam's left hand in the same fashion he did with the right.

"Okay Sam, can you feel that?" Dr. Ameche asked as he poked Sam's fingertips.

Sam frowned as he looked to Dr. Ameche. "I can't feel it. Why can't I feel it?" he cried.

Dr. Ameche frowned slightly. "It's okay Sam. Your left hand had more damage than your right. This doesn't mean that this is permanent. Can you try and move your fingers for me?"

Sam tried and tried, but was unable to get even the slightest movement from his left hand. He visibly deflated against his pillows, the elation from moments ago gone. His eyes fell to his lap as they filled with tears. "Dean?" he softly whispered.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed and lifted Sam's face up to meet his. "It's okay Sammy. We'll start PT and everything will work out, you'll see," he comforted.

"I can't feel my fingers. I can't move them!" Sam cried.

Bobby stared at the floor, unable to look at Sam's face. The boy had been through hell and he deserved something positive to happen. He definitely didn't deserve this.

Dr. Ameche grasped Sam's forearms firmly. "Sam, this isn't as bad as it looks. Granted, it isn't what we wanted to see but we can work through this," the doctor said, trying to calm the increasingly agitated young man. "There are things we can do to try and stimulate the nerves. This isn't the end of it."

"Can I get full use back in it? Can you tell me that I can regain full use? Huh doctor?!" Sam cried as he pulled his arms out of the doctor's grasp.

"Sam, I'm sorry but it's highly doubtful that you'll regain full use. The right hand maybe 90 percent, but I'll be happy just to get you some movement back in your left," Dr. Ameche stated.

"Huh! I'm glad you'll be happy!" Sam snorted sarcastically.

"Sam, I know how you're feeling, but..."

"You know how I'm feeling? Are you serious? You can use both your hands doctor! Tell me you know how I feel when you can't feel your fingers!" Sam growled, his face red and his cheeks wet.

Dean placed his hand on Sam's arm and squeezed lightly. "Sam, calm down. We'll work through this, we'll..."

"No! My hand is useless! I'm useless!" Sam cried. "Just...please just leave me alone. I want to be alone," Sam said, pulling his arm away and closing his eyes.

"Sam, come on..." Dean started.

"Dean, please...I'm tired, just leave me alone for a while."

Dean slowly stood up, his eyes never leaving his distraught brothers face.

"Okay Sammy. You sleep now and we'll talk later," Dean said as he and Bobby followed the doctor to the door.

Sam turned on his side, his back to the retreating trio. Dean saw his brother's shoulders shaking and he could barely keep himself from rushing to Sam's side. Every fiber in his body screamed for him to stay and comfort him, but he had to abide by Sam's wish to be alone. He reluctantly went through the door and closed it softly behind him. Once outside the room, he immediately turned to the doctor.

"What the hell was that!" he shouted through clenched teeth.

"Dean, I was just telling Sam the truth. There's little chance of him regaining use of his left hand. He needed to know that," the doctor defended.

"No! What he needed to know was that as long as there was ANY chance, with hard work and a little faith, he COULD regain use of his hand!" Dean replied heatedly.

"I'm sorry Dean, but the chance of that is just not very good."

"Yeah, I know. But there is a chance, maybe a small one, but there is one. Right?"

"I suppose there is always a chance."

"That's what Sam needs to hear! If you tell him there's no chance, then he's not going to fight for it. If he knows there's a chance, even if it's small, it gives him what he needs, and Sam will work himself to the end to achieve his goal. That's Sam, that's the way he is. He's a fighter, but he needs that one thing to know it's worth the fight."

"And what is that one thing?"

"Hope Dr. Ameche. Hope."

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**There you go. Another chapter down, eight more to go. Please let me know how I'm doing. Take care.**

**Cindy.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Sorry, but this is another shorter chapter. I think it has a lot to say though, so I hope that makes up for the length. Besides, there will be another chapter later tonight. Enjoy.**

**Cindy.**

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A half hour after the door to his hospital room had closed found Sam still on his side facing the window. His sobs had subsided and he now lay silently, blankly staring at the wall. He felt completely useless, alone and isolated. He was angry, depressed and sad all at the same time. But most of all he was tired. He was tired of always being on the losing end. He was tired of being a burden to his brother, and now he would be an even heavier burden than before.

Sam couldn't help but think about what this was going to do to Dean. It was obvious to him that he would no longer be able to hunt. With one hand not at 100 percent and the other completely useless, he would only get in the way. And that was the best case scenario. Him being on a hunt now would be dangerous, not only for himself but more importantly, Dean. Sam may be able to help with research. He could always use the one finger approach when working on the laptop, but that would be more time consuming and Dean could do it just as easily.

In Sam's mind, there was no way around it. Dean should keep on hunting and Sam should, well he didn't know what he should do. He didn't know what he could do. He only knew what he couldn't do. He couldn't hold or use a gun; he couldn't do hand to hand combat; he couldn't watch his brother's back and keep him safe. He would only end up getting Dean hurt or worse, killed. That right there would be the end of him. He would never be able to live with himself if anything happened to Dean because of his uselessness.

He would need to talk to Dean and Bobby. The most practical solution would be for Dean and Bobby to team up and hunt together. Bobby was great at research and could more than hold his own in a fight, and Dean wouldn't have the constant worry of making sure that Sam was safe. It would be better for everyone if Sam just stayed out of the picture.

Sam had made his decision. He would do his PT and get whatever he could out of it, but when the time came, he would have to go his own way. He knew Dean would fight him, but he would have to convince his brother that it was for the best. For the both of them. He would talk to Dean later. Right now he was exhausted and he ached all over. All he wanted to do now was sleep. He wanted to escape all these thoughts for now. He hoped he could escape them and that they wouldn't follow him into his dreams.

Sam lowered his eyes to his hands that were tucked up next to his chest and resting on one another. Never in his life had the idea of struggling to do even the most inane tasks crossed his mind. These were all things that he did every day without even thinking about it. Now it would be difficult to dress himself, comb his hair, or even tie his shoes. He closed his eyes and these were the thoughts in his head as he drifted off to sleep.

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Two hours after Sam's meltdown, Dean could wait no longer. He could not stand to be away from Sam for one more minute, so he quietly snuck into his room and took up his post beside Sam's bed. The past week and a half had been excrutiating and he could not stand for Sam to be out of his sight. The days spent trying to find his little brother, then finding him only to have him ripped from his grasp made Dean shudder. Sam's torture at the hands of the demon where all Dean could do was watch gave the older hunter nightmares. Despite the blinding pain Sam had been in, he was the one who took the demon down and saved them all. It was just a reminder to Dean of just how strong Sam was.

Dean wished that Sam could see what he himself saw. What Sam saw in himself was weakness. He saw himself as a burden who needed to be taken care of. Every injury that he or Dean suffered was due to his weakness, in his mind. Every innocent life lost Sam took personally, blaming himself for not doing enough, for not having the strength to save them.

When Dean looked at Sam, he saw a person with great inner strength and kindness. A person who would put his life on the line in a heartbeat to protect a complete stranger. Dean saw a person that despite everything he had seen and suffered through in his life still maintained an innocence and purity that was astounding. Sam was the strongest and the best person Dean had ever known. It was for these reasons that Dean could never think of Sam as a burden. He was an angel on earth who needed protecting because the light that shone from him was a beacon for the evil in the world. Sam needed protecting not because he was weak, but because he was who he was and would always put others before himself. He was a light that if extinguished would make the world a darker place.

Dean sat, lost in these thoughts, watching his baby brother sleep. What Sam had been through would have destroyed any lesser person. Sam may seem down at the moment, but he most certainly wasn't out. Dean would make sure that Sam fought with every last bit of strength he had. Sam would succeed. He would recover, and he would be all the more strong because of it. Dean knew it would be difficult, but he would be there to hold his brother up if ever it seemed he would fall.

Dean could imagine what Sam's thoughts were. He would be thinking he was a burden; useless to his brother and all the innocents out there. He may even be thinking of leaving, assuming he was protecting Dean by doing so. Dean wouldn't let it happen. Sam always sang the praises of Dean and how strong he was. What Sam didn't realize was that Dean's strength came from him. Dean drew upon Sam's strength for his own. Without his brother beside him, he would be nothing.

Dean reached out, softly touching Sam's hands. They felt so cold, prompting Dean to pull the top cover up over Sam's shoulder and gently tuck it around him. Sam stirred slightly then quieted. Dean brushed a stray strand of hair from Sam's eyes then settled back in his chair. He lowered his chin to his chest and closed his eyes.

'You will pull through this Sammy. If I have to carry you every step of the way, I will," was Dean's final thought before falling off to sleep.

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**Dean knows Sam so well, he even knows what the kid is thinking. Please let me know how I'm doing. Reviews are love. Take care all.**

**Cindy.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Here's the next chapter. Just six more after this. Please enjoy.**

**Cindy.**

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CRASH!!!!

"Shit!"

Dean awoke, jumping from his chair as he tried to determine where the threat was coming from. It took him a moment to remember where he was but once he did, his eyes immediately shot to the bed. The empty bed.

"Sam!" Dean shouted, his eyes darting around the room. They fell on the partially closed bathroom door. He rushed to the door and flung it open. He stepped inside and found Sam on the floor trying to retrieve several items that had scattered when his toiletry bag had obviously fallen. Dean let out the breath he had been holding upon seeing that his brother was not in danger. Sam looked up quickly, an irritated look on his face.

"What happened Sam?" Dean asked as he crouched down to pick up Sam's toothbrush.

"Stop Dean!" Sam snapped. "I can do it myself."

Dean's hand stopped as he looked Sam in the eyes. "Hey, just let me help you Sam. It's no big deal."

"I dropped my shit, I'll pick it up. Please Dean, it's a big deal to me," Sam said, lowering his eyes to the floor.

Dean lifted his hands in surrender. "Okay, no problem. I'll just wait for you out there." Dean continued to watch Sam for a moment, softly shaking his head as he witnessed Sam's struggles. He backed out of the room, leaving Sam to his task.

Sam kneeled on the floor, trying to gather his scattered toiletries. He attempted to grasp his razor but was unable to make his fingers obey. He tried repeatedly to pick the razor up with no luck. After several more attempts to gather his things, he fell back against the side of the shower. He kicked his foot out in frustration, sending his toiletry bag flying into the corner. He kicked out several more times, hitting the wall.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Sam cried as he rested his elbows on his bent knees, his head falling forward and his forearms resting back on his head.

Dean stood outside the bathroom door listening to the sounds of Sam's attempts to pick up his dropped items. He wanted so much to go in and help, but stayed back in response to his brother's wishes. When he heard Sam hit the shower stall and kick the wall, he took a breath, then opened the door and stepped into the small room. Sam was collapsed against the shower, his shoulders slumped and his head resting in his arms. He had a defeated look and it broke Dean's heart.

"Sammy?" Dean asked cautiously.

Sam looked up to Dean, peering at him through his forearms. "I can't even pick up a fucking razor. I'm totally useless!"

"Sam, you just got the bandages off. You think you can do it all right away?" Dean stated as he walked to Sam and crouched down in front of him.

"It's picking up a razor Dean! It's not brain surgery for God's sake!" Sam cried, dropping his head back down.

"Sam, come on. Let me get you back to bed then I'll get this all cleaned up. We'll talk when I'm done," Dean said, reaching down and grabbing Sam's arm.

Sam didn't move for a moment then looked up. "Fine, whatever. I can't do shit anyway!"

Dean pulled Sam up from the floor and guided him back to his bed, helping him get settled before returning to the bathroom. Once he had Sam's toiletries back in his bag, he returned to his chair by Sam's bed. Sam sat staring out the window, his arms crossed over him. He did not look at Dean, dropping his eyes to his lap instead. Dean leaned forward, his hands on his knees. He watched Sam, shaking his head at his sulking brother.

"Sam..." Dean started.

"Don't Dean. Not now," Sam snapped.

"Not now? When then Sam?" Dean asked.

"Dean..."

"Sam, look. I understand. This is frustrating, but you can't expect to just be able to do stuff right off the bat. You do your PT and in no time, you'll be back to your old self."

"You DON'T understand Dean. You have never lost the use of your hands. Do you realize how much you depend on your hands? It took me 5 minutes to just take a leak Dean! You heard what Dr. Ameche said. I may get, what, ninety percent use back in my right hand and I'll be lucky to just get some movement back in my left? I'll never be back to my old self."

"Dr. Ameche was a dick! He doesn't know you like I do Sam. He doesn't know how strong willed you are."

"Nerve damage Dean. That's not something that you just fix with a strong will."

"Dr. Ameche said there were things they could try to help stimulate the nerves. If it works, you could gain use back Sam. We have to try."

"Dean, I plan on doing everything I can. I'm being realistic though. Odds are, I won't gain enough use back to be able to do what I do now. I won't be able to hunt anymore."

"Sam, you don't know that. Let's just wait and see what happens."

Sam lowered his eyes trying to work up the nerve to say what he needed to say. He took a deep breath and proceeded. "Dean, I...I think you and Bobby should start hunting together. I mean, um, on the jobs where two hunters are necessary. I can't back you up and I know you won't want to quit hunting."

"Oh? And what will you be doing when Bobby and I are hunting Sam?"

"I don't know. I'll find something that I can do. I'll settle in someplace, find a job."

"So, you're just gonna go off on your own? Is that your plan?"

"Dean, what do you want from me? If my hands don't work, I can't keep hunting. Period!"

"It sounds to me like you're giving up Sam. You aren't even giving yourself a chance here."

"I'm not giving up, I'm just facing the facts. I'm not giving up Dean."

"You're not going out on your own Sam. You're staying with me, no matter what!"

"Dean, I'll just get in the way. It'll be dangerous for both of us. I'll be fine on my own. We'll see each other whenever possible."

"You're forgetting about something Sam."

"What's that?"

"Yellow-eyes."

Sam looked up suddenly. Dean gazed intently at his brother. He could tell that Sam hadn't thought of that. He could see fear in Sam's face. "Sam, you can't go out on your own. Not until the demon is destroyed. I can't protect you."

"Maybe he won't want me anymore," Sam stated, lowering his eyes again.

"That's crap and you know it! He wants you for your mind, for your abilities. Not your hands Sam."

"Dean, what am I supposed to do? I'm supposed to tag along with you so you can watch out for me all the while doing hunts that I can't help with? That puts you in danger. I won't do it!"

"Sam, you will stay with me. If by chance you don't get enough use back in your hands to hunt, then Bobby can help me out. But you are not, and I mean it Sam, you are not leaving me!"

"Dean..."

"No Sam! We are going to do everything we can to get you back to normal. You are not gonna give up here. And you are not leaving. If you leave, I will hunt you down and kick your ass! You got it Sam?"

"I'm not giving up Dean. I promise you that. Now you need to promise me something."

"What Sam?"

"I'm not a kid anymore Dean. I'm an adult. If I feel the best thing for everyone is to go my own way, then you have to let me go."

"Sam, no..."

"Dean, you have to let me make that decision. I promise I won't just take off, but if I think I need to leave, then I'm leaving."

"What about yellow-eyes Sam?"

"I don't know Dean. I'll just have to be extra careful."

"I don't like it Sam. We need to stick together."

Sam slumped in his bed, his sad eyes gazing at Dean. Dean leaned back and rubbed his hand over his face.

"Dean, I don't want to be in the way. I don't want to feel worthless and if I can't help, what am I supposed to do? Am I to just sit around the motel room and wait for you and Bobby. I can't do it Dean. I just can't do it!"

"Sam, let's just take this one day at a time. We'll deal with this. You won't need to leave Sam, I know it."

Sam sighed, his shoulders sagging. "Okay Dean. One day at a time."

"Okay Sammy. Hey, you look tired. Why don't you get some rest and we'll talk later. Dr. Ameche wants you to start PT tomorrow and you're gonna need all the rest you can get."

"Yeah, okay. I am a little tired. Why don't you go get some shuteye at the motel. I'll be okay by myself."

"Naw Sammy. I'll just stay here if you don't mind. I'm not ready to let you out of my sight just yet."

Sam smiled weakly and settled down into the bed. He didn't want Dean to know that he was glad he was staying. Just knowing Dean was there helped with the nightmares. He closed his eyes and was asleep within minutes. Dean watched Sam, a million thoughts racing through his head. Sam couldn't leave. He couldn't protect him from all the evil out there if he wasn't around. Dean understood where Sam was coming from. If he couldn't hunt for some reason and could only watch from the sidelines, he would feel the same way. He would just have to make sure that it didn't come to that.

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**That's it for now. I hope you liked it. Please tell me.**

**Cindy.**


	23. Chapter 23

**Okay, so this is an extremely short chapter so guess what? I'm going to post another one right after this one. Two for the price of one. Hope that works for everyone.**

**Cindy.**

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The door to Sam's room slowly opened and Dean immediately was on alert. He relaxed when he saw Bobby walk through the opening. Bobby nodded as he approached Dean's chair.

"How's the patient?" Bobby whispered, mindful not to wake Sam.

"I need to talk to you about that," Dean whispered back, standing up and moving to the farthest corner of the room, Bobby following close behind.

"So, what's up?" Bobby asked with concern.

"Sam's got it in his head that if he doesn't recover the use of his hands, the best thing for him to do is to leave and for you and I to hunt together," Dean said, glancing toward the bed to make sure his brother was still asleep.

Bobby sucked in a quick breath before slowly letting it out. "Is he crazy? He can't go off on his own! What about the yellow-eyed demon? If Sam's hands aren't functioning, how is he gonna protect himself?"

"I know! I told him that, but you know how stubborn he is Bobby. I don't know how to get through to him. He thinks he'd be in the way and that he'd be a danger to me. Says he'd feel worthless. I don't want him to feel that way, but I can't have him running off on his own."

Bobby shook his head knowing full well the fight they would have on their hands. Sam was as stubborn as John had been, maybe even worse. And if he thought Dean would be in danger if he was around, he would find a way to leave. "Okay Dean. We'll figure this out. We may not have to worry about it though. Have you spoken to the doctor yet?"

"He was in a little while ago. Said there's some sort of infra-red treatment that they can try. It's mainly for diabetics with nerve damage. He said it's worth a try. Sam starts physical therapy and the infra-red tomorrow."

"Did the doc say when he'd be released?"

"Couple more days. Dr. Ameche wants to make sure Sam's pneumonia is under control and that he doesn't develop any infections. He has to come daily for his treatments and PT."

"Okay, we'll just have to make sure we don't let the kid out of our sight. Make sure he works hard and doesn't get discouraged."

"Thanks Bobby. Thank you so much. I don't know what I would have done if you weren't here. I know you've been away from home for awhile now and I understand if you need to get back."

"You're not getting rid of me that easily boy. I'm here for the long haul. I have a buddy watching the place and the dog. You're gonna need help keeping an eye on that one."

"Thanks Bobby."

Bobby nodded curtly and both men moved closer to Sam's bed, each watching him sleep and lost in their own thoughts. Thoughts that revolved around one Sam Winchester.

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**So, there it is. I'm off to post chapter 24 now. Please let me know what you think!!**

**Cindy.**


	24. Chapter 24

**Here is the next chapter. It is longer than ch. 23. I hope you like it.**

**Cindy.**

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**FOUR WEEKS LATER**

Sam and Dean sat across from Dr. Ameche, the doctors hands folded on top of his desk. Sam's chin rested on his chest, his eyes staring at a spot on his jeans. His hands lay unmoving on his lap, his shoulders sagged. Dean stared at the doctor intently, waiting for him to speak. After a few minutes the doctor cleared his throat then looked up.

"Doc, can we just get on with this?" Dean spoke up, breaking the ominous silence.

Sam sat unmoving, never lifting his gaze from his knee. Dean turned his head slightly, glancing uncomfortably at his younger sibling, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat.

"Sam," the doctor started. "You have worked so hard and have made great improvements to your right hand. You are nearly at ninety percent and I couldn't be happier with that."

Sam let out a soft grunt, but said nothing. Dean continued watching Sam, then turned to the doctor when Sam remained silent.

"What about his left hand? Why hasn't it improved?"

"As I said before, the nerve damage to his left hand was far more extensive than his right. The infra-red treatment did not work as we had hoped it would. It was a long shot to get him even the slightest movement, and we got him more movement than I thought we would. That's a good thing," the doctor answered.

Sam scoffed, speaking up for the first time. "Good for who?" He lifted his left arm from his lap, his hand hanging helplessly. "Does this look good to you? I'm moving my fingers. Look close! Did you see it? NO! I didn't think so," Sam cried as his fingers moved ever so slightly.

Dean reached over and gently placed his hand on Sam's arm, squeezing slightly. "Easy Sam...it's okay."

Sam pulled his arm away from Dean's grasp, then looked at his brother.

"It's not okay Dean! God...why does everyone keep saying that?! It's not okay...I'm not okay!" Sam jumped to his feet and headed to the door.

Dean stood and walked to his brother who was having trouble opening the door. "Sam, sit down. Please?" He looked at Sam pleadingly, reaching out to grab his arm.

Sam pulled away and backed closer to the door. "Why? What do I need to be here for? I already know what he's going to say! I'm never going to be whole again. I'm never going to be able to use my hand. What more is there?"

"Sam...please?"

Sam looked at Dean. He saw concern and desperation there. He hated that he put that look on his brother's face. "I'll just go sit in the car. Can you talk to the doctor?" he whispered softly.

"Sam..."

"I just need to get out of here Dean. Please? I'll just go to the car. I promise." Sam was on the verge of tears and felt like he was suffocating. His eyes pled with Dean and Dean knew he couldn't say no.

"Okay, fine. But you better be there when I get out."

Sam nodded at Dean, then succeeded in opening the door. He rushed out of the doctor's office. He hurried down the hall and pushed through the doors into the crisp morning air. Once outside, he leaned against the wall as he closed his eyes tight and drew in several deep breaths. After a few moments he made his way to the Impala and climbed into the passenger seat after finally opening the door. He sat there staring at his hands, his spirit deflating with every passing minute. He couldn't feel any more useless. He wondered what he would do. He had told Dean that he would leave if this scenario presented itself, but he was afraid. He didn't want to leave, didn't want to be alone. He didn't want to be an even bigger burden to Dean either.

Sam's breathing hitched and he suddenly felt the need to get out of the car. He got the door open with some difficulty and stumbled out of the car, forgetting to close the door. He ambled across the snow covered lawn and soon found a bench around the corner of the building. He brushed the snow away with his arm then sat down. He doubled over, putting his head between his knees. He sat this way for a few minutes then straightened up. He slumped against the backrest and squeezed his eyes shut, tears falling freely down his cold cheeks. Snow began to fall, but Sam was oblivious to it. After several minutes he began to shiver. He wrapped his arms around his body, but made no attempt to rise and go back to the shelter of the Impala.

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A half hour later Dean emerged from the hospital and quickly walked to his car. Snow had been falling for some time now as indicated by the fresh layer on the previously shoveled walk. As Dean approached the Impala he stopped dead in his tracks. Where he expected to see Sam's tall form in the vehicle, the sight that met him was an empty car, the passenger door wide open. He rushed to the open door and peered in the car, hoping to find Sam lying across the seat. He found nothing. He turned around and scanned the hospital grounds. There were a few people walking toward the main entrance but no sign of Sam. Dean's heart began to beat hard in his chest as he started to panic.

"Where the hell are you Sam?" Dean cried to himself as he frantically ran across the lawn, his eyes searching.

Dean came around the corner of the building and immediately caught sight of Sam still huddled on the bench. He ran to his brother, grabbing him by the shoulders.

"Sam! What the hell?" he cried.

Sam slowly looked up, his eyes puffy and red. His hair hung in wet clumps around his face. His nose and cheeks were flushed. He was shivering hard enough to make his teeth chatter. He said nothing. He just sat there staring into his brother's eyes, a silent plea evident in his large, hazel orbs.

"God Sam! You're freezing. You're gonna get pneumonia again!" Dean hissed as he took Sam's hands into his own. He pulled Sam up from the bench and led him across the lawn to the Impala. Sam slowly slid into the seat and Dean slammed the door shut behind him. Dean rushed to the driver's side and was soon sitting behind the wheel. He started the car then sat back against the seat, allowing the car to warm up.

Dean glanced over at his shivering sibling then reached into the back seat where he retrieved a green, woolen blanket. He wrapped the blanket around Sam tightly then turned the heater on full blast once the car had warmed enough. He put the Impala in reverse and backed out of his spot, then put it in drive and pulled out of the parking lot. He glanced at Sam who still hadn't uttered a single word, nor had he moved a muscle, save for the shivering.

"What were you thinking Sam? You scared the shit out of me you know!"

Sam glanced sideways at Dean, but kept quiet. He turned his head forward again and lowered his eyes to his lap.

"So you're not gonna talk to me? Sam, you realize you could get sick again right? You could end up back in the hospital."

"I'm sorry..." Sam whispered, never lifting his eyes.

"Sam, I know you think this is the end of the world, but it's not. We can work around this. You have almost total use of your right hand. We can do this Sam."

"Dean, I'm sorry I scared you. I'm tired. I don't want to talk about this right now. Can you just take me back to the motel?" Sam said softly.

"Sam, we need to talk about this."

"Not right now Dean. I don't feel well and I just want to sleep. We'll talk later, okay?"

"We should go in and have you checked out."

"No. I'm okay, I just need to sleep."

"Alright Sammy, but if you get worse, I'm bringing you back here."

Sam gave Dean a weak smile then rested his head on the headrest, closing his eyes. Dean shook his head slightly then turned his attention back to the road. Ten minutes later he pulled into the motel lot and parked in front of their room. He got out of the car and walked to the passenger door, opening it then he softly shook Sam's shoulder.

"We're here Sam."

Sam opened his eyes and slowly climbed from the car, the blanket still pulled around him. Dean led him into the room, nodding at Bobby as they entered. Bobby was busy reading the paper, looking for a possible hunt.

"So, how'd it go?" he inquired as he stood up. He turned questioning eyes toward Dean when he noticed Sam's wet hair and flushed face.

Dean shook his head, signaling to Bobby to wait. Bobby nodded then helped Dean get Sam situated on his bed. Dean removed Sam's coat and shoes then laid him down and pulled the covers up over his shivering body. He went to the bathroom and came out a minute later with some pills and water.

"Here Sam, take these," he instructed as he helped Sam up into a sitting position.

Sam popped the pills into his mouth then washed them down with a drink of the water. He laid back down and was asleep in minutes. Dean watched his brother for several minutes before he moved over to the table where Bobby was once again seated. He sat on the chair opposite Bobby and slowly looked at Bobby's face.

"He's giving up Bobby. The doctor said they can't do any more for him. What use he has right now is all he's going to get. I don't know what to do. I don't how to help him."

Bobby glanced at Sam, then back to Dean. "You keep doing what you always do. You watch out for him, let him know you're always there. Let him know you love him. He'll come around Dean. Sam's strong; he'll come around. You'll see."

"I hope you're right Bobby."

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**So, let me know what you think. Reviews are always appreciated.**

**Cindy.**


	25. Chapter 25

**I am just overwhelmed once again for the support I have received on this story! You all are the absolute best. And to all of you who comment each day, thank you sooooooo much! Your words are heaven to me! Anyway, here is the next chapter for you all. We're almost done with only three chapters left. Enjoy.**

**Cindy.**

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**Three Weeks Later-Scottsbluff Nebraska**

"Umpff..." Dean landed hard on his back, gasping as the wind was knocked out of him. He rolled to his knees and pushed himself to his feet. Dizziness washed over him and he placed his hand on a nearby tombstone to steady himself. "Son of a bitch!" he hissed.

He was tired of being tossed around like a rag doll all night and wished Bobby would just hurry the hell up and get the friggin' bones salted and burned. He wanted to get this job done and get back to Sam.

"Bobby! Anytime you want to get this bitch's bones burned I'm all for it!" Dean shouted then was sent flying again. "Fuck!"

"You okay Dean?" Bobby yelled over the spirit's enraged wailing.

"Just burn the fucking bones already!" Dean shouted back.

Dean was pulled up from the ground and was about to be sent hurdling into a tree when the spirit let out a bloodcurdling screech, then disappeared in a flash. Dean dropped to the ground and lay there, too winded to get up. Bobby soon appeared to help him up.

"Nice of you to just lay around while I do all the work!" Bobby quipped, pulling Dean up.

"Next time, I get to salt and burn and you get to play with the ghost, asshole!" Dean hissed.

Bobby laughed and helped the battered hunter to the open grave. They waited until the fire had died out before starting the labor intensive task of filling the grave in again. Once all the dirt had been replaced, they gathered their duffel bags together and walked tiredly back to the Impala. Once they stowed their gear in the trunk they climbed into the car and drove out of the cemetery. Dean sped down the road, rushing to get back to the cabin they had rented over a week ago. Sam was there alone and that made Dean very nervous.

He had tried to get Sam to come along, but his brother had balked at the idea. Sam had been falling deeper and deeper into depression and Dean had just wanted to get him out of the cabin. Sam had barely been eating. He slept all the time, although he always looked exhausted and haggard. When he wasn't sleeping, he either laid in bed staring at the ceiling or sat on the sofa staring at the wall. Both Dean and Bobby tried repeatedly to draw him into their conversations, but he only withdrew further into himself. He refused to wear the brace that Dr. Ameche had given him to help provide stability to his damaged hand. The brace only reminded him of his uselessness.

Dean was completely lost as to what to do for his brother. He had tried to get Sam on the laptop to help with research but Sam had just turned and went to bed, an empty look in his eyes. Dean could feel Sam slipping away more every day and was terrified of losing him. Sam had already dropped at least twenty pounds and on his tall, lean frame, it was horribly noticeable. He looked gaunt and ill.

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat and barely held back the tears that threatened to fall. Sam was slowly killing himself and Dean felt helpless to stop it.

"I'm losing him Bobby," Dean said softly, a hitch in his voice.

"Huh? What Dean?" Bobby asked as he was pulled from his own tortured thoughts.

"I'm losing him. He's dying right in front of me and I can't do anything about it."

"Dean, he'll come out of it eventually. We just need to keep working on him."

"He's wasting away. He doesn't eat, he sleeps all the time but doesn't ever look rested. You see him Bobby. You see what's happening to him. I think I..."

"What Dean? You think you what?"

"I think he needs help; help that I can't give him. He thinks he's worthless because he can't use his hand. He thinks he's not whole. I've tried Bobby. You've tried. He won't believe us that he can overcome this."

"Do you really think he would see someone about this? He won't talk to us, what makes you think he'd talk to a complete stranger?"

"I don't know what to do!!!" Dean shouted, hammering his fist on the dashboard.

Bobby shook his head as he looked at his young comrade. He was torn up inside, watching Sam slowly fade away, and Dean helpless to stop it. He was as lost as Dean in trying to help the youngest member of their family. He spent every night praying for a miracle. But every day he watched as they lost a little bit more of their Sammy. It had been ages since they had seen the smile that lit up the room or heard the laugh that made their hearts soar. Sam had become an empty shell. Bobby found it hard to believe that Sam's decline was due solely to the loss of his hand. He felt deeply that Sam had finally been pushed over the edge by this last trauma. He felt Sam's condition was a result of a culmination of all the trauma and tragedy he had suffered in his young life. He was hard pressed to come up with a solution to help Sam recover from years of trauma.

They finally pulled up to their cabin and Dean turned off the ignition. He sat there, not making a move to get out of the car. He wanted to go in and make sure Sam was safe, but was loathe to see the emptiness in Sam's eyes. He finally pushed the door open and climbed from the car. Bobby took his cue and also exited the car. They walked up the path to the front door then stepped into the cabin. The scene that met them stopped them dead in their tracks. They both pulled their guns and aimed them to the center of the room.

"What are you doing to my brother!" Dean shouted, fury raging through him instantly.

Sam was on his knees in the middle of the floor. His head was flung back, his eyes wide open but unseeing. He didn't flinch when Dean yelled, never acknowledging that he was aware of Dean's or Bobby's presence. His arms were outstretched in front of him, his hands being held by the person whom Dean and Bobby had their weapons trained on. A faint light emanated from the man and flowed over Sam.

The man was tall and lean. He had light hair, almost white, but he was young. He slowly turned his head and smiled at Dean and Bobby.

"Do not fear me. I mean him no harm," he said softly.

"How did you get in here? How did you cross the salt line?" Dean asked, assuming the man to be a demon. He glanced at Sam, who had not moved or made even the slightest sound. "What are you doing to him?!"

"I am helping him. I am not a demon Dean. Your symbols and protections have no effect on me."

Dean attempted to step forward, but found he couldn't move. Bobby tried, but with the same result.

"Get away from my brother or I will kill you!" Dean seethed.

"I cannot be killed. I am not your enemy. I am here to help Samuel."

Dean and Bobby attempted once more to move to Sam, but were held in place by an unseen force. The man turned back to Sam, his lips moving but his words unheard. Dean and Bobby watched helplessly as the light emanating from the man grew in intensity until they could no longer see him or Sam.

Suddenly the light dissapated. It took a moment for Dean and Bobby's eyes to adjust to the sudden change. When they could see again, they both gasped in unison as they saw Sam slumped on the floor, unmoving. They ran to him, both darting their eyes around the room, looking for the man who had seemingly disappeared into thin air. They reached Sam and both fell to their knees on either side of the fallen young man. Dean gently rolled Sam to his back. He placed his fingers to the side of Sam's neck and breathed a sigh of relief when he found a strong, steady pulse. He softly patted Sam's cheek, trying to wake him.

"Hey Sammy, wake up. You're playmate is gone now. Wake up for me Sam," Dean pled.

Dean looked at Bobby, panic in his eyes when Sam remained as he was. Bobby did a quick check of the boy.

"I think he's okay Dean. He seems to just be sleeping," Bobby said, trying to ease Dean's fears.

"Why isn't he waking up?"

"He hasn't had a peaceful sleep in weeks Dean. He's exhausted. This is probably a good thing. Help me get him up on the bed."

Dean nodded and helped Bobby lift Sam from the floor. They carried him to the far corner where the beds were and gently placed him on one. Dean pulled the covers up over him then planted himself on the bed next to him. He reached over and felt Sam's forehead and was relieved to find it cool to the touch. Bobby pulled a chair up to the other side of the bed and stared at Sam's peaceful face. He moved his gaze to Dean.

"What the hell just happened Bobby?" Dean asked softly.

"I don't know Dean."

Both men kept vigil that night, neither one willing to leave their post. Dean unconsciously pulled Sam's right hand into his own and never let go the entire night.

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**Well, there it is. A little twist for you all! Please let me know how I'm doing. Love to you all!**

**Cindy.**


	26. Chapter 26

**Okay, first things first. We are having some Montana weather here and I am having trouble with my internet again! I can't get into my e-mail so I must apologize to everyone who commented on the last chapter. I will read the comments as soon as I can and hopefully will be able to reply. If I can't, please know that I appreciate every comment and review I receive! Okay, now on to the next chapter. I hope you enjoy.**

**Cindy.**

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Despite his most valiant efforts to stay awake, Dean finally succumbed to his body's need for sleep. Bobby had fallen asleep and hour before, and Dean fought hard but soon his eyes became too heavy and he slipped away into slumber, Sam's hand still clutched protectively in his own. He awoke the next morning to the sounds of Bobby preparing to make breakfast on the old woodburning cookstove. He checked on Sam who was still sleeping peacefully beside him. He was relieved to see that some color had returned to his brother's face. It was a vast improvement from the dull, ashen pallor Sam's skin had taken on these past weeks. He gently released Sam's hand, not wanting to wake him up just yet. He ambled to the bathroom and after finishing his business and taking a quick shower, he emerged feeling ten times better than he had the previous night.

Dean's thoughts turned to the scene that he and Bobby had stumbled upon when returning to the cabin. He could see the white haired man holding onto Sam's hands, the light emanating from him. He could see Sam's face, the absolute absence of any emotion or recognition in his wide eyes. It disturbed Dean to no end and he couldn't wait until Sam awoke so he could hopefully shed some light on what had happened.

As if on cue, Sam began to stir, his eyes opening slowly. Both Dean and Bobby stopped what they were doing and walked to the bed. They stood staring at the young man and a moment later his gaze met theirs. Sam slowly pushed himself up into a seated position, dropping his gaze as if embarrassed. He had actually looked surprised at first when he saw the two men.

"Hey," Sam said softly, his bangs hanging messily in his eyes.

"Hey. How ya feeling?" Dean replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Uh...I'm good. How'd the hunt go?" Sam asked, looking up at Dean but not quite looking him in the eyes.

"The hunt? It was good. Would've liked to have had you there though."

Sam smiled slightly, almost a grimace actually. "Dean...I would've been in the way. You know that."

"No Sam, I don't think so," Dean replied as he shook his head. "So, you going to enlighten us on what happened last night?"

Sam flinched slightly then dropped his eyes to the bed. "What do you mean?"

"Come on Sam, you know what I'm talking about." Dean was confused by Sam's behavior. He was acting embarrassed and guilty, like it was his fault that the strange man had attacked him.

Sam swallowed nervously as he fidgeted in the bed. "How...how do you know about that?"

"Sam...what the hell? We saw the man. He was holding onto your hands. Who was he? Did he hurt you?"

Sam jerked his head up, a confused look on his face. "Man? You saw a man? What did he look like?"

"Uh...tall, thin, almost white hair. Oh yeah, and he was glowing."

"I...I thought I was dreaming, or hallucinating," Sam whispered.

"What's that Sam? I didn't quite catch you there," Dean queried, even more confused. Sam obviously thought Dean was talking about something other than the man.

Sam looked up, his eyes wide. "I thought it was a dream. I thought I was dreaming. He was really here?"

"Yeah Sam, he was here and then he wasn't. And then you passed out on the floor. What the hell went on here?"

Sam dropped his eyes again and remained silent for a moment. When he did speak it was in a soft, timid voice. "Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do. I was going to leave, but I promised I wouldn't. I don't want you to get hurt because of me. I just hurt so bad, I wanted it to stop. I...I wasn't thinking. So I did it and...and then the man came. I thought I was dreaming. I thought I..." Sam's voice trailed off.

"You thought what?" Dean asked. "Sam, what did you do last night? You said you did it. What did you do?"

Tears were streaming down Sam's cheeks as he tried to speak the words that he knew would hurt his brother to his very soul. Bobby shifted uncomfortably next to the bed as he eyed the distraught young man.

"Sam...what did you do?" Dean demanded forcefully.

"I...thought I was...dying. I should have died," Sam whispered.

"What! Sam, what do you mean?" Dean cried, his heart beating wildly in his chest. A terrifying thought hammered into his mind and he jumped from the bed, rushing to Sam's duffel bag. He dug through the bag frantically, then pushed it aside when he didn't find what he was looking for.

"Where are they Sam?" Dean shouted from across the room.

Sam sat quietly, fiddling unconsciously with the covers, refusing to meet his brother's gaze.

"Where are your sleeping pills Sam!?"

Bobby jerked his eyes from Dean to Sam after hearing that. He moved closer to the bed and placed his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Sam," he said softly, "You didn't. Tell me you didn't."

"I just wanted the pain to stop," Sam whispered softly.

Bobby covered his mouth with his hand. "Oh my God," he muffled.

Dean rushed to the bed and grabbed Sam's shoulders. "How many did you take Sam? Tell me Sam!" Dean cried, tears now making tracks down his cheeks.

Sam finally looked up, his sad eyes finding Deans. "All of them," he said softly.

"Son of a bitch!! Why Sam? Why would you do that?"

"I'm sorry Dean. I just wanted it all to stop. I thought I could free you from your burden and get yellow-eyes off your back too."

Dean slugged the pillow violently next to Sam's head, making Sam flinch. "You are not a burden Sam! How many times do I have to say it? So what, I was supposed to come back and find you dead and all of the sudden a weight would be lifted from me? Are you really that dense Sam?"

"I'm sorry Dean. I thought that if I was...gone...the demon wouldn't need me anymore and he would leave you alone. I can't do much of anything anymore and I was so afraid I was going to get you killed. I thought I was saving you. It just hurts so much Dean. Everything that's happened, it hurts so bad. I wasn't thinking straight."

"You got that right! You weren't thinking. Sam, it would have killed me if you had died. Don't you get that? There's no me without you!" Dean cried as he pulled Sam's face up to meet his. "There's no me without you."

Sam collapsed forward into Dean, his face pressing into Dean's neck. Hard sobs shook his frame. Dean reached strong arms around his baby brother and pulled him tightly into a hug. Bobby went to the kitchen area, giving the brothers their privacy. "It's okay Sammy. Everything is going to be okay. I promise," Dean whispered soothingly into Sam's ear.

After several minutes, Sam pulled away and looked at Dean. "Dean, I'm sorry. Please don't hate me."

"I don't hate you Sam. I could never hate you. I just wish you'd talk to me. I know I don't like chick-flick moments, but if you're hurting I want to know. Don't shut me out Sam. Please?"

"Okay Dean. I'm sorry."

"Okay, no more keeping this shit inside. Now, are you hungry? Bobby's making breakfast and I want you to eat. You have hardly eaten in a month. We'll talk about this later."

"I guess I am a little hungry."

"Good. You stay here and rest and we'll get the grub going. Everything's going to be fine Sammy."

Sam nodded and smiled sadly before turning his face away.

Dean stood up from the bed and walked to the kitchen area where Bobby had started to crack eggs into a bowl. He stopped beside Bobby, giving Sam a sideways glance.

"Bobby, that bottle was nearly full. If Sam took all the pills, why is he still alive?" Dean said softly.

"I don't know, but I'd be willing to wager our mystery man had something to do with it," Bobby replied, shifting his gaze to Sam. "Oh my God!" he gasped, gripping Dean's arm tightly.

Dean followed Bobby's eyes to Sam, who had pulled a magazine from the nightstand and was absently flipping through the pages. Dean's eyes widened and both he and Bobby rushed to the bed. Sam looked up questioningly when he sensed their eyes on him.

"What? What are you looking at?" he asked self consciously.

"Your...your hands Sammy..." Dean stuttered.

Sam glanced down, dropping the magazine to the floor in shock. He raised his hands in front of his face, his eyes wide.

"I can move my hand Dean! I can feel it!" Sam cried excitably. "What's going on? I don't understand. I...Dean?"

Dean dropped to the bed and grabbed Sam's hands. He looked at Sam's shocked face and smiled. "I don't know Sam. You can feel it? Really?"

"Yeah! I can feel it, and the right one's not numb anymore."

"Wiggle your fingers Sam!" Dean quipped happily.

Sam wiggled the fingers on both hands, a wide, dimpled grin lighting up his face. Bobby smiled broadly and walked to the other side of the bed. He clapped Sam on the shoulder and Sam looked up at him, his eyes bright for the first time in months.

"I don't believe it," Sam whispered, looking at his hands.

Dean brushed his hand through his hair nervously. "When we're done with breakfast, you are going to tell me everything that happened last night after we left Sam. Everything."

Sam smiled and nodded his head. Dean beamed back. He hadn't realized how much he had missed that smile.

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**So, there it is. Please let me know what you think. Hopefully, I'll be able to read the comments and reply. LOL Thanks so much for reading!**

**Cindy.**


	27. Chapter 27

**Okay, next to the last chapter! You find out a lot in this chapter. I hope you enjoy it. **

**Cindy.**

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**THE PREVIOUS EVENING**

Sam lay on the sofa, his eyes fixed on the fireplace and the fire burning brightly within. He could hear Dean and Bobby moving about the cabin, stuffing the weapons bags with their needed supplies. They were going on a hunt. There was a vengeful spirit responsible for three deaths and they were intent on ending it's murderous spree. The location of the hunt was an hour away and they wanted to be there before darkness fell. That meant they needed to be on the road in five minutes. Dean kept throwing glances at Sam. He was nervous about leaving him alone, what with the way he had been acting since the meeting with Dr. Ameche. He had tried to convince Sam to come with them but Sam had refused.

"Hey Sam," Dean said, purposely walking into Sam's line of vision. "I'd really like you to come with us. How 'bout it kiddo?"

Sam merely shook his head then turned over on the sofa until his back was to Dean. Dean stood staring at his brother for a moment, his head falling to his chest. He felt like he was losing his brother and nothing he did or said seemed to help. Bobby stepped up beside Dean, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Dean, we gotta hit the road if we're going to be to the cemetery before dark."

Dean nodded then slowly turned from Sam and made his way to the door, shouldering the weapons bag as he opened the door. He sent one more look Sam's way, then slowly closed the door behind him. He walked down the path toward the Impala where Bobby waited. He opened the trunk and they deposited their bags inside. They got into the car and Dean started the engine, the familiar rumble bringing him no peace today. He took one more glance at the cabin, then pulled away.

"He'll be fine Dean. We'll be gone four hours, five tops," Bobby said, keeping his own concern out of his voice.

"Yeah, you're right I guess. He'll probably sleep the whole time anyway," Dean replied dejectedly.

Sam continued to lay on the sofa for half an hour after he heard the door close and the sound of the Impala driving away. He finally rolled over then sat up. He sat staring at the floor for several minutes before standing up and shuffling to the bathroom. He turned on the cold water and splashed his face, the temperature change causing his breath to catch in his throat. He stood up and glanced at his image in the mirror. Staring back at him was a too pale face with haunted eyes, dark circles beneath them. His cheeks were sunken in, a result of his dramatic weight loss.

Sam reached into the bathtub and started the water, putting the stopper in when the water turned hot. Sam pulled his sweatshirt and tee shirt over his head, dropping them to the floor. He looked in the oversized mirror again. His collarbones jutted from under his skin as did his ribs. He pushed his jeans and boxers down around his ankles, not needing to even unfasten them. He stepped out of the jeans and into the steaming tub of water. He sat down and slowly lay back, hissing slightly as the hot water washed over his chest and shoulders. He sat up a few minutes later and shut the faucet off, then lay back once more.

Sam closed his eyes, a myriad of thoughts racing through his tired mind. Dean had practically begged him to go on the hunt with he and Bobby. Sam had refused, knowing he would only be in the way. And worse, he would be a distraction for Dean, which could get Dean hurt, or worse, killed. Sam could not take that chance. He knew Dean would continue to try and draw him back into hunting, and with time, he would succeed. Sam couldn't let that happen. He would never convince Dean to let him go, and it scared him more than he had ever been scared before. If he stayed with Dean, he would lose his brother. Dean would die and it would be his fault, just like his mom, Dad and Jess were his fault.

Sam raised his right hand and covered his face as a sob escaped his slightly parted lips. He didn't want to leave Dean, but he couldn't remain with him. He had promised Dean he wouldn't leave him, but he knew he had to break that promise. Sam slowly slid down in the tub until his head and face were completely submerged. He held his breath as tiny air bubbles escaped between his lips and quickly rose to the surface of the water. Sam's lungs began to burn as the lack of oxygen took it's toll. When he could take it no longer he jerked up out of the water, gasping for air. Sam lay back again, closing his eyes.

Sam stayed in the bath until he realized that the water had cooled and he had begun to shiver. He rose from the tub and stepped out onto the cold floor. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. He retrieved his clothes from the floor and exited the bathroom. The fire in the fireplace had burned out and the cabin had chilled considerably. Sam looked at the small clock on the mantel and realized he had been in the bathtub for over two hours.

Sam dropped his clothes next to the sofa and reached into his duffel bag for a clean change of clothes. If he was going to leave, he needed to do it soon in order to have a good headstart. Sam pulled on a clean pair of boxers and then a clean tee shirt. He sat on the sofa, his elbows resting on his knees. He shook his head slowly realizing he couldn't leave. Dean would never stop looking for him and that in itself would be enough of a distraction to get his brother killed.

Sam angrily grabbed his duffel and started to shove his clean jeans inside. He then grabbed his sleep pants and pulled them from the bag. He flinched slightly when something solid hit the hardwood floor. Sam reached down with his right hand and picked up the fallen object. He turned it over in his hand. Sleeping pills. Dean had gotten him a prescription months ago when he had been unable to sleep more than an hour a night. He stared at the bottle as a knot formed in his stomach. He knew right then what he had to do. This was the only way to save Dean. To save himself. He would no longer be a burden to his brother and the yellow-eyed demon would no longer be after him to lead his dark army and thus would no longer be a danger to Dean.

Sam didn't want to do this. He didn't want to die, but he was so tired. The pain he carried daily cut deep into his soul. The guilt of so many deaths weighed on him so heavily it felt as though he would break any second. He didn't want to do this to Dean, but hoped that in time his brother would understand the sacrifice he was making was the right thing to do. Sam rose from the sofa and went to the kitchen sink. After some trouble, he was able to pop the cap off the pill bottle. He filled a glass with water then poured the contents of the bottle into his palm. A tear rolled down his cheek as he pushed the contents of his hand into his mouth. He washed the pills down with the water quickly before he had a chance to change his mind.

Sam took the pill bottle and threw it into the can under the sink, pulling garbage over the top of it to keep it hidden. He walked slowly to his bed and sank down on the edge. He thought of writing Dean a letter, but what could he say to ease his brother's pain? What could he write to convince Dean that he was better off without him? Dean would figure out in time that his life was easier without the constant worry of watching out for his little brother. It still didn't ease Sam's guilt at what Dean would face when he found him and realized what he had done. Sam knew how he would feel if the roles were reversed. Sam suddenly had an attack of panic. What had he done? How could he do this to Dean? Dean would find him and would be devastated.

Sam rushed to the bathroom and dropped to the floor in front of the toilet. He pushed his fingers down his throat and gagged, but was unable to bring anything up. He tried again and again but was not able to expel the pills. He sat back against the wall, his forehead falling to his knees. He sobbed uncontrollably until his throat was raw and his chest ached. After some time Sam rose on wobbly legs and struggled out of the bathroom. His head was foggy and his eyes heavy. He attempted to make it to the bed, but halfway there his legs gave out and he collapsed to the floor. With some effort, he was able to roll onto his back. He lay there as his world became darker and darker and everlasting sleep crept upon him.

"I'm so sorry Dean," he whispered as his eyes closed completely.

Sam lay there, still able to hear the night sounds around him. His sluggish mind was telling him to open his eyes and get up from the floor, but his body refused to obey. Darkness steadily filled his head and when it had almost completely consumed him, he felt a charge around him and the hairs on his arms stood on end. The darkness started to retreat somewhat and his senses slowly came back to him. He heard the door of the cabin open and slowly opened his eyes, looking over to his right and expecting to see Dean rushing towards him.

It wasn't Dean who stepped into the cabin. The man was taller than Sam by the looks of him. He had nearly white hair and pale eyes. His build was slender, but not skinny. He smiled softly down at Sam as he crossed the floor, stopping a few feet away. A soft light emanated from the man and Sam wondered if this was the light that people had claimed to see when they had a near death experience. No, Sam thought to himself. He had committed suicide. He wouldn't see a light. This, he reasoned, was a dream or a hallucination brought on by his dying brain. He closed his eyes once more until a voice brought him back again. The voice carried a sweet melody that brought tears to Sam's eyes.

"I am not a dream Samuel. I am real."

"Who are you?" Sam whispered, amazed that he could even speak.

"My name is Isaral."

"Are you an angel?"

"No Samuel, I am not an angel. But thank you for the compliment."

"Are you a demon?"

"No, I am not a demon."

"Who are you? What do you want with me?"

"I am a messenger Samuel. I have been sent to tell you why you must continue with your fight. You and your brother."

"Who sent you?"

"The Almighty One."

"But I'm dying. I can't continue with Dean. Even if I lived, my hands are useless."

"You must continue."

"The demon will use me for evil. It's better if I die."

"The demon can only use you if you let him. You have great power and strength within you Samuel. You have a wondrous light that is a beacon for all who are lost. Sadly, it is also a beacon for all that is evil. Evil that would hope to use you for it's own purposes."

"That's why I need to die, so I can't be used for evil. I'm not strong enough."

"If you die this way, evil will win. Your soul will belong to the evil to use as it wishes. You must live and fight. You are the one true hope for the world in the coming war. You are stronger than you think."

"But I'm already dying. It's too late," Sam whispered sadly as tears streamed from his eyes.

"No Samuel, you will not die tonight," Isaral said as he lowered himself beside Sam. He slid his hand beneath Sam's neck and effortlessly lifted him from the floor. Once Sam was standing, Isaral moved in front of him.

"Your brother will be here soon. You must stay with him. He is your protector and will keep you safe. Give me your hands Samuel."

Sam reached his hands forward without question and Isaral took them into his own. Electricity shot through Sam, but he felt no pain, only a warm, comforting sensation. He dropped to his knees as Isaral continued to hold his hands. Sam could hear Isaral chant but could not understand the words. Another wave of warm electricity shot through his body and he flung his head back, his eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. He was unaware when Dean and Bobby entered the cabin. He did not hear his brother's voice when he confronted Isaral. All he knew was the warmth that radiated through his body and the bright light that filled his vision.

Suddenly, the warmth and the light was gone and he felt himself fall to the floor. He thought he heard Dean's voice calling for him and he tried to open his eyes, but soon the darkness claimed him and he heard nothing more.

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**So, let me know what you think. One chapter to go!!!**

**Cindy.**


	28. Chapter 28

**Alright, this is it. The final chapter. Thank you so much for sticking with me on this. I appreciate all of the comments I received. And I truly appreciate all of the readers who came back chapter after chapter! Anyway, here it is.**

**Cindy.**

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Dean rubbed a shaky hand over his face and then through his short hair. As Sam had relayed the previous evenings events, Dean had felt like dropping to his knees and sobbing like a five year old who had just found out his mommy had thrown out his coveted security blanket. The thought of Sam contemplating suicide, much less actually going through with it shook him to his core. He knew Sam was in pain. He knew the unwarranted guilt he carried. And hell, he for sure understood Sam's need to protect him, having that same overpowering need himself. What he hadn't known was how deep the pain and guilt that Sam felt ran. And the need to protect, to save Dean was so much stronger than Dean could ever have fathomed. It was strong enough to convince Sam that the only solution was to down a full bottle of sleeping pills. Oh, and let's not forget trying to drown himself first. Sam swore that wasn't his intent, that at that moment he was planning on running away. But Dean thought there was more to it than that whether Sam believed it or not.

Dean didn't know what upset him more. The fact that Sam was so distraught that he swallowed a bottle full of sleeping pills, or that it wasn't he who had saved him, who had done everything to protect him. Someone else had done that . Or something else. The jury was still out in Dean's mind on just who that was. Isaral. A messenger from God. It sounded to Dean like a corny line from The Blues Brothers. _'I'm on a mission from God'_. Dean let out a humorless laugh and both Sam and Bobby looked at him in confusion. Dean stood and began to pace the floor in front of Sam, who sat nervously on the sofa. Bobby stood next to the burning fireplace, his hand resting on the mantel.

"So, you took the pills, then changed your mind and tried to throw them up but couldn't. You collapsed on the floor and just about when you were close to d..." Dean rambled, unable to say the word. "You were on the floor and this guy just walks in, crosses the salt line, and tells you he's a messenger from God?"

Sam looked up at Dean, his tired eyes following his brother as he paced back and forth. "Yeah. I asked if he was an angel and he said no. I asked if he was a demon and he said no."

"Demons lie Sammy. How do you..."

"Dean. He crossed a salt line. He saved my life. He healed my hands! If he was a demon, why would he save me?"

"I don't know Sam! I'm just trying to wrap my mind around a messenger from God," Dean shot back. He had never really believed in God, but here this was staring him in the face. Isaral had not only brought Sam back from the brink of death but had also healed his hands, completely. The only sign that there had even been a problem with Sam's hands was the scars the spikes had left and even those had faded somewhat since yesterday.

"Dean...he wasn't a demon. When he touched my hands I felt such warmth and comfort. It was like touching...grace."

"What? Who's Grace?" Dean was completely baffled now.

"Not who. What. You know, the Grace of God. I felt peace. The first time in a very long time." Sam lowered his eyes, recalling the overwhelming feeling of well being that had washed over him at Isaral's touch.

Bobby's cell phone rang and he excused himself quietly, exiting the cabin. Dean watched him leave, then looked back to Sam. He marveled at Sam's unwavering belief in a God that he himself had a hard time believing could exist. With everything they had seen, all the evil that they knew existed, it was hard to imagine that there was an all enveloping goodness too. Sam's argument was that there had to be a balance. You couldn't have evil without good to balance it out. The one thing that kept Dean from completely dismissing the existence of God was Sam. There was such goodness in his brother that it was hard to believe that he was just born that way. With all the evil in the world, how could one person be so pure, so good without something or someone placing that goodness there? Dean could go crazy thinking about it.

And how could he explain Isaral? No matter how he tried to reason it out, he came back to the same conclusion. Isaral was not a demon. He was not evil. He had saved Sam. He had healed him. So if he hadn't come from Hell, where had he come from? The answer to that went against everything Dean believed . If he didn't come from Hell, that left Heaven. And if Heaven existed, then God had to exist too.

Dean sank down on the sofa next to Sam. Sam looked up, his eyes wide as he watched his brother. Dean looked at Sam and a tremendous feeling of warmth and protectiveness washed over him. Without thinking, he reached over and pulled Sam into a protective hug. Sam slowly wrapped his arms around Dean and sank into the hug, absorbing strength from his brother. Dean's body shook with relief and love and fear.

Sam was alive, his hands healed and Dean had no explanation other than God himself had sent a messenger to heal him. This spoke volumes of how important his little brother was and it terrified Dean. No wonder Sam had seemed to have such a huge target on his back when it came to the evil bastards they hunted. They were afraid of him, of his importance in saving the world from the darkness that sought to destroy it.

Sam and Dean were brought out of their musings, and hug, when Bobby came back through the cabin door. Bobby stopped, shifting uncomfortably.

"Uh, sorry," he started.

"It's okay Bobby. What's up?" Dean said, his face turning a deep pink.

"That was a buddy of mine. I called and asked him to do a little research for me. According to Mack, Isaral was...is a messenger of God. He's a messenger also entrusted with the gift to heal." Bobby lowered himself onto the chair opposite the brothers.

"So, he really was sent by God to heal Sam?"

"Seems so."

Sam sat, wide eyed, shaking his head. This was all a little too much to absorb all at once. On one side he had demons who wanted to either use him or kill him, and on the other he had God sending messengers to save him. Why was he so damned important? Sure, he had visions that scared the shit out of him and sometimes under extreme stress he could move things with his mind, but he had no control over his abilities. He never asked for any of this and didn't want it now. All it had brought him was pain and heartbreak. He had lost so many that were close to him, and countless others had lost their lives as a result of the demon's quest to own him.

Sam didn't feel he was worth all the lives that had been lost and all of the ones that were bound to be lost in the future. He just wanted to get away from all of this and live a normal life, but he knew that was impossible. He had an important role to play, albeit he didn't know what it was. He wouldn't run away from it. He would face it head on, no matter what it was. As scared as he was, he knew he had Dean to stand beside him all the way. He also had Bobby and Ellen, Ash and Jo. He would fight this war and hopefully win it. If he was important enough for God to send someone to save him, then he would try his hardest to uphold his end of the bargain, even if it cost him his life in the end.

"Uh...earth to Sammy. You in there?" Dean queried as he snapped his fingers in front of Sam's eyes.

"What? Huh?" Sam sputtered as he was pulled from his musings.

"There you are! I thought I'd lost you for a minute there. So, where'd you go space boy?" Dean quipped, clapping Sam on the shoulder.

"Oh, uh...I was just thinking."

"Well, that's always scary. What were you thinking about?"

"We need to get out of here and put together a plan to start hunting down every demon we can find. The war's beginning and we need to be ready." Sam fidgeted a bit on the sofa then looked up at Dean.

Dean watched Sam questioningly, raising an eyebrow. "So, why the sudden change of heart? What happened to wanting to be normal?"

"Dean, we both know that's not possible and it never has been. It was just a pipe dream. My fate was sealed the night Mom died. If it was important enough for a messenger to be sent to save me, then I just can't turn my back on it anymore. I don't understand my importance in all of this, but I can't deny it." Sam rose from the sofa and began to gather his belongings together. He paused, looking from Bobby to Dean who both stood dumbfounded, staring at Sam with their mouths hanging open. "What? What are you guys looking at?"

"Uh, I don't know. Are you sure about this Sammy?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I really don't have any other options. So...you coming with me?"

"You bet your ass I'm coming with you! I'm not gonna let you have all the fun little brother."

"How about you Bobby? I'd understand if you wanted to stay out of this," Sam said, gazing at the older man.

"Naw. You boys are my family and family sticks together. Besides, I couldn't stay out of this even if I wanted to. I'm already a part of it. Let's get the hell out of here and hunt us down some demons!" Bobby replied as he began to gather his own things together.

"Now that's what I'm talking about! Kicking some demon ass! Ain't nothing like it!" Dean quipped.

The three men gathered their belongings together and loaded themselves into their vehicles. They drove off, away from the cabin and toward a war that none of them had started. One was heading to his destiny and the other two were along for the ride, his protectors. They all knew the road ahead was dangerous and that they might not survive, but down that road they went, determined to fight this war and end the evil that sought to control humanity. Once and for all.

**THE END**

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**Well, it's done. I hope the ending did not disappoint! I will start converting the sequel to Word and should be able to start posting in a few days. The title to the sequel is Fight the Good Fight. I hope to see you all there! Thank you all so much!**

**Cindy.**


	29. Chapter 29

Hey all! Just wanted to let you all know that the sequel to this story is now being posted. The title is **Fight the Good Fight. **I hope to see you all there. Thanks!

Cindy.


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